


light in every language

by honeygrief



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: M/M, alcohol use, all the side pairings are v much side, bg past soonwoo, binge-drinking mention, bsk best friend/boy, choreographer ksy, govt mandated club scenes, lordeventeen, mentions of the observable universe, musician ljh, slice of life?, write something w plot not just an extended character study challenge failed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-25
Updated: 2018-10-25
Packaged: 2019-07-29 02:25:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16254776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/honeygrief/pseuds/honeygrief
Summary: Soonyoung tries his best to articulate what it feels like to find the right song, to hear it in his body and not just his head, and Jihoon follows close behind. They take words right out of each other’s mouths, like they’ve had this conversation before. Like they’ve been waiting to have it.





	light in every language

**Author's Note:**

> part of seventeen jukebox lorde edition - submission for green light
> 
> while the initial plot came from thirty consecutive listens of green light, some other songs to consider are [press restart by walk the moon](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zhH_n0LGApc), [focus (analog version) by allie x](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LGfK1-PVPek), and [shine by years & years](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hXTAn4ELEwM)
> 
> more things: the timestamps are important bc i skip multiple weeks at a time, for age context- 98line is about to graduate college, please excuse my blatant americanisms, half of this was written in under 24 hrs so there may be some spelling errors, misplaced commas etc.
> 
> thank you to sawyer for holding my hand thru this and to the mods for putting the challenge together!! hope y'all enjoy!!
> 
> edited feb 15th 2019

29 MARCH | THURSDAY | 2:23 AM

Wonwoo pops the cap off of Soonyoung’s beer before breaking his heart. 

They sit in silence as he spins the bottle opener around his finger and chews at the inside of his cheek. It’s been six months. Soonyoung knows what this particular nervous habit means, and he gives Wonwoo a minute to spit it out. He doesn't.

“What’s up?” Soonyoung asks, putting his beer down on the coffee table. 

Wonwoo looks at him like he doesn’t know what he’s referring to, which is bullshit. Soonyoung raises an eyebrow and taps his cheek. He has the decency to look a little embarrassed as he stops biting, smiling at his lap instead. 

A familiar ache spreads through Soonyoung’s hands, the one that wants to reach for Wonwoo when he smiles like that. Most nights, he would give in, crawl through the space between them and let his mouth do the rest of the wanting. But this is part of what they do for each other, listen to shit they won’t admit to anyone else, and tonight seems like one of the nights he’s going to be playing therapist instead of sex toy. He shoves his hands under his thighs and waits. They’ll get to the other part eventually. 

“I think I’m going to tell him,” Wonwoo says.

Soonyoung opens his mouth to ask what he’s talking about, who’s he, is he aware that they know multiple people, before his brain catches up and he chokes on empty air. 

Wonwoo looks up, concerned, and Soonyoung goes into a coughing fit to cover it up. His synapses are misfiring in every direction, grasping at straws and other things that Wonwoo could be referring to. It’s usually in his best interest to play stupid, so he does.

“Sorry,” he says, swallowing again. “Who?”

There’s only one name that he doesn’t want to hear. He goes through a list of every person that he’s ever met as Wonwoo flushes at the throat and he knows, feels it in his gut. He doesn’t have to say it, but he still does.

“Seokmin,” he says. 

There’s something about the way he holds the name on his tongue that reopens a wound in Soonyoung’s chest right at the seam. 

“The past few weeks, something has felt different between us,” Wonwoo explains, rolling his beer bottle between his hands. “At first I thought I was just projecting, but I’m pretty sure now.”

Everything in Soonyoung’s mind fades to static as Wonwoo goes on, explaining the way Seokmin had looked at him the other night, something about getting too close, about inertia. 

“That’s great,” he finally forces out. If it sounds insincere, Wonwoo doesn’t seem to notice, which for once, is to his advantage. 

“Yeah,” he says, letting that small smile return to his face, “I’m scared shitless, but you know, now or never.”

“Yeah,” Soonyoung echoes. 

A spark of anger flares at the edges of the scar in his chest. Wonwoo should have done this over the phone. Not invited him over like any other night, made him think that they were going to have a few beers and watch a movie until Wonwoo got bored enough to fuck him into the next morning. He should have been considerate enough to break his heart at a time and place where it could actually break, not blister against itself, unable to breathe.

“I want to say thank you, but that feels a little weird,” Wonwoo says, laughing quietly to himself. “I’ve never done this before.”

“What? Break up with your fuck buddy?” he says, trying to keep the edge from his voice. 

Wonwoo shrugs, like he can't say it out loud.

“Well, we’ve broken up before, so this shouldn’t be any different,” Soonyoung says, and it comes out nasty. 

Wonwoo’s face falls. It’s a low blow and they both know - how hard it was for Wonwoo to tell him the truth all those months ago, that he was in love with someone else, that Soonyoung was an attempt to prove to himself that he wasn’t. 

And Soonyoung was the one who started this. He was the one who came crawling back a few weeks later, promised Wonwoo that it could just be sex and they had a great time together, didn’t they? It wouldn’t mean anything, that’s what he said. He doesn’t have a leg to stand on. 

He laughs.

“Send me a fruit basket,” he says, and Wonwoo smiles hesitantly. It’s the best course of action, pretending that he’s just Soonyoung, just making a joke. He's just Soonyoung.

They fall into something that probably seems like a comfortable silence to Wonwoo, but is actually Soonyoung counting the minutes until he can leave without drawing too much attention to the shake in his hands. Wonwoo scrolls through Netflix, rattles off some options until Soonyoung nods, pulls his feet up under himself. He wants to run, but there’s another part of him that wants to stay, wants to melt into the couch so that Wonwoo can’t get rid him without a fight. 

He nurses his beer and makes it through thirty minutes of Donnie Darko before the thoughts in his head, the desperate ones that want to tell Wonwoo that this hasn’t meant nothing because maybe, just maybe, that would change something, get too loud. 

“Shit,” he says, pretending to reply frantically to a text. He looks up at Wonwoo, apologetic. “I forgot I told Seungkwan I’d be on puppy duty tonight since they’re not getting back from Jeju until late.”

“Oh,” he says as Soonyoung pulls on his shoes. For a moment he thinks Wonwoo can see through the lie, but he just smiles and says, “Give Tangerine my love.”

He gives Soonyoung a wave before turning back to the TV and it’s like a blow to the jaw, how easy it is to let him walk out. He waits for five seconds, ten, twenty. _Say something_ , he thinks in Wonwoo’s direction. But he doesn’t, because it’s that easy. 

He makes it out of the apartment, down the hall, and has his hand on the door to the stairs when something that tastes like grief rises violently in his throat.

Logic says it shouldn’t hurt as bad this time. He should have some immunity, he earned it after surviving the first round. But logic has never fared well against Soonyoung's seemingly bottomless pit of emotion. It gets lost in the dark down there. 

His vision is starting to blur and he squeezes his eyes shut. If he can get to his car, he can follow the darkness, the silence down an empty road until they swallow him. But neither are so easily won. There are footsteps, a door opening and then Minghao, right in front of him.

He stops short and makes a sound of surprise as he tries to keep from colliding with Soonyoung. The plastic bags on his arm swing backwards and smack against the wall.

“Hey,” he says.

“Hey,” Soonyoung breathes, his face contorting into his best approximation of a smile. Of course.

Under Minghao’s gaze, the shame burns bright and hot. He’s the only one who knows about the arrangement with Wonwoo, thanks to his habit of walking in on them late at night. He’d kept it quiet until now per Soonyoung’s request, but he’d always disapproved even if he never said it out loud. And as it stands now, he had a very good reason to.

Soonyoung looks away, tries to lose himself in the red neon letters of the exit sign. The illusion doesn’t hold for long and Minghao brings him back to reality with a slow breath in.

“Are you okay?” 

It’s not the question that finally pulls him over the edge, it’s the way he asks. Like he was prepared for this moment, like he was just waiting.

“Please don’t tell him,” he whispers. 

He doesn’t look at Minghao as he pushes into the stairwell, doesn’t look anywhere but his feet carrying him toward escape as fast as they can. 

-

30 MARCH | FRIDAY | 10:54 PM

Soonyoung is sucking at the dregs of his second Long Island iced tea when Mingyu returns from the dance floor and throws himself into the booth. He downs the rest of his drink noisily and smiles, cheeks already pink. Soonyoung doesn’t ask, but Mingyu wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and says, “Seungkwan’s getting more drinks.”

He grunts, keeping his straw in his mouth and his eyes on the table. 

“You know what I love?” Mingyu sighs, laying his hands flat on the table.

“What?” Soonyoung asks more out of habit than actual curiosity.

“Not wearing a tie,” he says, smacking the table for emphasis. He’s reveling in freedom after a rough week at the office and it shows, almost flaring out of him. “You know what else I love?” He doesn’t wait for Soonyoung to ask this time. “Not burning my hands every time someone needs coffee. Can’t they do cocaine like the rest of the finance world?”

“Maybe you should work on your aim,” Soonyoung mutters, punching his straw through the ice to get at the last drops of alcohol. He meant for it to come out as a joke and Mingyu laughs, but he also stops moving, zeroes in on Soonyoung assaulting his ice.

“You good?” he asks, resting his arm across the back of the seat. 

Soonyoung looks at him and readies an excuse when Seungkwan moves into his line of sight. They need to get off this subject, quick. “Yeah, just tired."

Either Mingyu believes him or Seungkwan’s approach is distraction enough, because he nods and stands to grab a tall glass from Seungkwan’s full hands. He barely looks at Soonyoung as he slides the drink to him, instead wrapping an arm around Seungkwan’s waist and pulling him down into the booth next to him. Seungkwan laughs as they sit, taking a sip of his drink and sending a smile to Soonyoung. Before Soonyoung has to muster a convincing one in return, Mingyu comes to the rescue, pressing the tips of his fingers to Seungkwan’s jaw. He rolls his eyes as Mingyu leans in for a kiss, but the smile on his face stays firmly in place.

There are plenty of reasons Soonyoung didn’t want to come out tonight. He’s got to teach tomorrow. His bank account. No clean clothes. The desire to curl up in bed with a fifth of alarmingly cheap vodka and the last three seasons of Brooklyn 99. Most of all, he didn’t want to feel the sick curl of jealousy in his gut watching his best friends fall in love right in front of him. But here he is, and there they are, almost a year together and still bright as the day they started to burn. 

Soonyoung averts his eyes and pushes back into his seat, taking a steadying breath when his center of gravity seems to shift under him. The drinks haven’t gotten on top of him yet, but they’re climbing fast. He should probably slow down. There are also reasons he’d agreed to come out tonight. In fact, one of them is calling Mingyu now, who picks up the phone on the third ring.

“Hao and Jun just parked,” he says after a short exchange shouted over the music. 

“Cool,” Soonyoung says, letting his head fall to his shoulder. He waits until Seungkwan pulls Mingyu back into their little world to swallow the thing lodged in his throat.

It’s not that he doesn’t trust Minghao. He has absolutely no reason to think that he’ll suddenly spill his secret after keeping it for the past few months. The issue in this particular equation is Seungkwan. 

“I lost Jun,” Minghao announces when he finally arrives at their table. 

Seungkwan stands halfway out of his seat and cranes his neck toward the dance floor. “Already?” 

Minghao shrugs and takes a sip of the drink in front of him, which happens to be Seungkwan’s. He makes a face as he swallows, nose scrunched up in distaste. He doesn’t say anything as he puts the glass back down on the table, but Seungkwan still says, “Shut up. You and your refined palate bullshit.”

Minghao just raises his eyebrows in response and Mingyu uses the break in conversation to start chattering away about his boss’s inability to dress himself even though he makes more money than God. Soonyoung tries to listen and keep an eye on the crowd at the same time, scanning faces for one matching a name that hasn’t been mentioned yet. He knows Wonwoo won’t make an appearance tonight, he never comes out on Fridays, and if there was even the slightest chance of seeing him, Soonyoung wouldn’t have bothered peeling himself out of bed. But there’s a member of their usual Friday night crew that’s missing, and his absence is worrying to say the least.

He can’t ask Minghao about it in front of Seungkwan, and the only other person with relevant information is lost somewhere in the mass of bodies streaked with flashing lights and sweat. He knows Jun, knows it could be an hour before he comes up for air, and a surge of panic pushes against his him from the inside. Just as he’s about to excuse himself to the bathroom and splash some cold water on his face, Mingyu lets out a bark of laughter.

“Found him!” he shouts, pointing at the bar. 

Everyone at the table turns. Minghao groans and Seungkwan stifles a laugh through his hand. Jun is leaning heavily on the only open stretch of bar, one his shoulders visible through the already damp collar of his oversized shirt. The tilt of his head is information enough as he chats with their favorite bartender. 

“You think he’s ever going to give that up?” Mingyu asks, taking a sip from his drink.

“No,” Soonyoung answers as Minghao says, “Absolutely not.”

Minghao smiles as his eyes flash in Soonyoung’s direction for the first time that night, but there’s something in it that makes Soonyoung’s stomach drop. He stands up.

“Drinks?” he asks after a pause that goes on for too long. They’re all staring at him. “Drinks,” he repeats, and leaves the table without looking back. 

Jun is still laying it on thick when Soonyoung reaches him, drink in hand and a mischievous glint in his eye as he offers to demonstrate his flexibility, something about touching his ankle to his ear. Soonyoung presses into his side, pushing him out of the way with his hip and addressing the bartender.

“Hey Jeonghan,” he says over Jun’s noise of resentment at being interrupted. “Can I get an old fashioned?” 

“Of course,” Jeonghan says, retreating to the shelf behind him.

Soonyoung waits until his back is to them before fixing Jun with a particular look. “How many times do you have to tell him that your hips are double-jointed before you figure out he’s just not interested?”

“It’s called a long game,” Jun says happily, wrapping an arm around Soonyoung’s shoulder. “I’m wearing him down.”

He rolls his eyes, but the gesture feels empty. His composure is starting to crack now that he’s face to face with a conversation he doesn’t want to have. Jun seems content to watch Jeonghan peel an orange and Soonyoung lets him for a moment, struggling to decide if he really needs to do this. 

“Where’s Seokmin?” he asks, because in the end, he has to.

“Somewhere,” Jun says with a shrug as he turns to face the dance floor, feet tapping. The lights bounce against his skin and Soonyoung has to fight the urge to grab him by the chin and make him focus. 

“Somewhere here?” he prompts, trying not to sound so desperately on edge.

“No,” he says, waving his hand as he takes a sip of his drink, “Wonwoo picked him up.”

The music pounds in Soonyoung’s head, all bass. 

“Here you go,” Jeonghan interrupts, reappearing to slide a drink across the bar.

They both turn and Soonyoung stares at it, only half-there as he hands the drink to Jun who pouts, understanding that he’s supposed to deliver it to Minghao.

“Go,” Soonyoung sighs, “you’ve bothered Jeonghan enough for tonight.”

He glares at Soonyoung but starts to move away, only turning back to yell at Jeonghan over the music, “I’ll be back!”

Soonyoung reaches for the wallet in his back pocket and lays it on the bar. He rubs his hands over his face and looks up to find Jeonghan still there, watching him.

“Sorry about him,” he says weakly.

“It’s fine,” Jeonghan laughs, accepting the cash that Soonyoung hands over. “He’s cute. And he tips well.”

“He shouldn’t,” Soonyoung says, letting his eyes wander over the bottles stacked on the back shelf. “He’s broke.”

“Good to know,” Jeonghan says with a smirk before he gets pulled away by a girl demanding another Red Bull and vodka. 

Soonyoung stands there studying labels and his hands in turn, unsure what to do with himself. If he goes back to the table like this, the jig is up. Seungkwan will pull him into a back corner or a bathroom and drag the truth out of him whether he’s ready to admit it or not. And he’s not. His options are disappear, let the crowd carry him to the exit until he can flag down a cab or-

“Jeonghan,” he calls, catching a glimpse of his wine red hair a few people down. When he makes it over, Soonyoung pulls a few bills out his wallet. “How much tequila can I get for this?”

Jeonghan, bless him, doesn’t comment as he grabs a bottle and three shot glasses. He’s barely put the plate of limes down when Soonyoung throws the first one back. He makes quick work of the last two, shoving a single slice of lime in his mouth when they’re gone, focusing on the turn of his stomach. He can throw up later. Right now, the only thing he needs is to not think. 

Jeonghan’s eyebrows have disappeared into his hairline, but Soonyoung spits out the rind, gives himself a quick smack on the cheek and says, “Thanks.”

He gets back to the table without falling over and when he sits, Minghao is trying to get Jun’s attention, snapping his fingers in front of his face.

“When did we meet Jihoon?” he asks.

“Uh,” Jun says, closing his eyes to concentrate. After a concerning amount of time, he opens them back up. “Advanced modern. Eleventh.”

“Right,” he says, nodding. 

Soonyoung tries to keep his eyes in focus, but it’s becoming more difficult by the minute. 

“So,” he continues, “we haven’t seen him in like, five years, and then we end up going to a party over Christmas at this place in Hong Kong and there he is. Apparently he’s been doing sets all over the place and we had no idea.” 

“Even crazier,” Jun jumps in, “he’s really fucking good.”

“Not that crazy,” Minghao counters. “He used to do arrangements for class. He’s always been good.”

Jun hums in agreement, and Minghao takes a moment to push his hair back from his face. Soonyoung watches his rings shine in the half-dark of the club and decides not to fight how the light makes his head spin. 

The conversation starts fade in and out as soon as he stops making himself listen, the earlier drinks catching up and amplified by the rest of the cheap liquor running through him. He catches a few words here and there, mentions of phone calls and reunions and maps, Mingyu’s laugh, Jun shouting along to the music. But his thoughts get harder to control at the same time, wandering to another part of town, a sleek black car, a confession not meant for him. He grabs a drink and finishes it, not even sure if it’s his. 

The last thing he remembers is Seungkwan reaching over, putting a hand on top of his. The rest is lost to the night and so is he. 

-

6 APRIL | FRIDAY | 5:03 AM

It only takes Soonyoung a week to master the art of avoiding a one-on-one conversation with his roommate while still living in the same apartment.

The task requires lots of loud music behind a locked door, long hours at the studio, and worst of all, early morning jogs, but it’s working so far. By the time Friday rolls around, he’s almost used to waking up at the ass crack of dawn and throwing himself headfirst into the day. And even better, it’s an easy day today. Seungkwan will be gone for class in less than two hours so that’s a few times around the park and an hour in a coffee shop, just to be safe. 

There’s no light coming from under Mingyu and Seungkwan’s door when he sneaks through the living room. A good sign.

He’s got his shoes on and music queued up in less than a minute, but when he reaches to open the front door, he finds it already unlocked. The information doesn’t process fast enough, his brain sluggish with sleep and by then, it’s too late. 

Tangerine is only fifteen pounds, but what she lacks in size, she makes up with enthusiasm, jerking Seungkwan through the threshold as soon as she sees Soonyoung. When he steadies, Seungkwan unhooks her leash and says quietly, “Tan, we talked about this.”

All three of them are crowded in the entryway, Soonyoung caught in Seungkwan’s heavy stare. He breaks the eye contact to crouch down, happy for the distraction nipping at his ankles.

“How does she have so much energy this early in the morning?” Soonyoung asks, listening to Seungkwan’s footsteps retreat to the kitchen.

“I could ask you the same thing,” he says, glancing at Soonyoung’s running shoes as he reaches into the fridge. 

Soonyoung laughs uncomfortably, but doesn’t respond past that, pretty sure he’s a few words away from walking into a conversation he does not want to have. 

“You’re still coming tonight, right?” Seungkwan asks after finishing a glass of orange juice. 

“Tonight?”

“Dinner,” Seungkwan says, moving to the sink. “For Mingyu’s birthday.”

Soonyoung’s insides go a bit cold. Truthfully, he had completely forgotten about the celebration during the inner turmoil of the past week. “Right, right,” he says, standing back up. “When is it?”

“Eight,” Seungkwan says, back still to him.

Soonyoung closes his eyes. “Who’s going?”

“One of the guys from work, Minghao, Jun, their friend Jihoon, and Seokmin.”

Soonyoung’s insides freeze over completely. 

There is absolutely no way that he’s ready to do this. He could fake a family emergency. He could throw himself down the stairs.

“Before you try to get out of it,” Seungkwan says and Soonyoung’s head snaps in his direction. The problem with trying to lie to his best friend: he knows him. “Let me give you some options.”

He crosses the room slowly and picks up Tangerine. She nuzzles into his neck as he turns his eyes on Soonyoung.

“Either you come tonight or I email my professors and fake the stomach flu so we can have a long talk right now about whatever is going on with you.”

They both know who’s going to win this particular fight.

Soonyoung clenches his jaw. “Fine,” he says, not looking back as he goes to leave, “text me the address.”

“Already did,” Seungkwan sing-songs in a whisper behind him.

He sighs, puts his headphones in, and does not slam the door. 

-

He tells himself that he didn’t mean to oversleep, but the dread knotted in his gut says something else. By the time he arrives at the restaurant, the only thing keeping him sane is knowing that he has an hour less to endure. 

He smooths his hands over the striped shirt he’d found in the bottom of his closet as he approaches the table crowded with his friends. Mingyu sees him first and waves happily, Seungkwan stopping mid-conversation when he spots him. 

“Lovely of you to join us,” he teases, reaching out to squeeze Soonyoung’s hand behind the back of Mingyu’s chair. 

“Sorry,” he says with an embarrassed smile, “I kept hitting snooze.”

Mingyu turns from his place at the head of the table and claps him on the shoulder. “We’ve all been there, buddy,” he says before stuffing a strange looking appetizer in his mouth. 

The man sitting across from Seungkwan extends his hand and introduces himself. His name is Seungcheol, he’s a friend of Mingyu’s from the office, and he’s only vaguely familiar until Seungkwan reminds him that they met at the Halloween party last year. 

“Super drunk Batman?” he asks, perking up when he puts the pieces together.

Seungcheol hangs his head. 

“Unfortunately, yes,” he says. “No one warned me not to drink the punch.”

Soonyoung hums sympathetically. “Welcome to the club. Getting shit-faced on one of Mingyu’s concoctions is a right of passage around here.”

“I feel like I can still taste it,” Seungcheol grimaces. “What was in that?”

“Gatorade and Sprite,” Mingyu says, mouth still full. When he swallows, he smiles and adds, “An unspecified amount of Everclear.”

“You’re a monster.”

As the two of them launch into a discussion of whether it’s worse to throw up dark or clear liquor, Seungkwan nods toward the end of the table and says, “Grab a seat. I’ll flag down the waitress for you.”

Soonyoung glances at the part of the table that he’d been very purposefully ignoring until now, letting his eyes fall on Seokmin for a split second, which is a mistake. He looks happy. Soonyoung doesn’t think he’s imagining it, how happy he looks. His smile seems to swallow the darkness in their small corner of the restaurant, his hands waving wildly through the air, deep in conversation with Minghao. 

Soonyoung averts his eyes and quickly moves to the closest empty chair, taking a deep breath. If he lets his panic get the best of him now, it’s going to be a long night. 

He takes a seat finally and when he looks up, Jun is staring at him, eyes wide and a drink pressed to his lips. He half-coughs and half-swallows, a serene smile appearing as he reaches across the table. “Soonyoung, you’re here!” he drawls, making a grabbing motion toward him. 

“Hi,” he laughs, immediately recognizing this particular state of Jun-intoxication. He takes his hand and says, “You started without me.”

“I forgot to eat lunch,” Jun explains with a frown, “and the food is taking forever to get here.”

“Well, you’ve obviously used your time very well,” Soonyoung says, eyeing the almost empty glass by his plate. 

“It’s only my second one,” Jun says, taking his hand back. It seems as if he has something else to say but he stops, his face screwing up in concentration. “Right?”

For a moment, Soonyoung thinks Jun is asking him and he starts to laugh, ready to remind him that he just got here, he hasn’t been keeping track, when another voice says, “Right.” 

Soonyoung turns to follow the unfamiliar voice and is met with an equally unfamiliar face. 

Caught in his own anxiety, he hadn’t even spared a glance at the person he’d sat down next to, assuming it was another from their regular party. But the stranger to his left is just that: a stranger. Soonyoung tries to place him, his hair bleached almost white, lighter than Seungkwan’s and swept in a lazy curve across his forehead. His features are delicate and large set against his small face and Soonyoung notes that everything about him is small, even in comparison to himself. When their eyes meet, Soonyoung stutters back to life, remembers his manners.

“Sorry, I didn’t even realize-” he starts, holding out his hand with what he hopes is a polite smile. “I’m Soonyoung.”

The boy looks down at his outstretched hand and then looks back at him. One of his eyebrows arches.

“Yeah,” he says slowly, like he’s trying out the word for the first time as he shakes Soonyoung’s hand, “we’ve met.”

Soonyoung blanks. “We have?” 

“Yeah,” he repeats. They’re still shaking hands. 

“When?” 

“Last weekend,” he says as Jun chimes in happily, “When you threw up on him!”

Soonyoung almost falls out of his chair.

“What?” he yelps, pulling his hand away. He looks between them, horrified. His eyes land back on the apparently not-stranger. “I threw up on you?”

“Last weekend,” Jun reminds him. 

“Yes, thank you,” he groans. He rubs his hands across his eyes and hides behind them, the sound of his voice muffled when he asks, “Did I really?”

“Yeah,” he says and Soonyoung surfaces because- he’s smiling? A pair of dimples appear and then quickly disappear when he gets a look at Soonyoung’s face. “But it was really just my shoes,” he adds.

Soonyoung returns to hiding in his hands and tries to force the blood rushing to his cheeks back down into his body. He’s only blacked out four times in his life. High school graduation, his first Mingyu Halloween party, college graduation, and now this. What a wonderful addition to the list. At least the first three times he hadn’t smeared his guts on someone. 

“I’m sorry,” he sighs. “I was- last weekend was-” he stammers, pushing the hair off of his forehead nervously, “I’m so sorry. I had no idea.”

As he prepares to grovel some more, an arm reaches through their conversation. A swarm of waiters appears, stacked to their shoulders with plates and everything turns to chaos. Soonyoung takes advantage of the distraction. He’s got his phone out before the first dish hits the table.

[To: Boo]  
_why didnt u tell me i threw up on someone???????_

Through all of the rearranging of drinks and empty appetizer plates, Soonyoung still has an eye on Seungkwan. He doesn’t even glance in Soonyoung’s direction as he types out a reply.

[From: Boo]  
_Didn’t get a chance to_  
_Someone’s been avoiding me all week_

Soonyoung rolls his eyes all the way back into his head. He’s right, of course. But he could have sent him a head’s up text or left a sticky note on the fridge, and he’s about to tell him so when someone behind him speaks up.

“Can I get you something to drink, sir?” a waitress asks, her pen poised and ready.

“Oh,” Soonyoung startles, shoving his phone under his thigh. He pauses. He needs a drink, but then again, he’s sitting next to someone he’d recently vomited on. “I’ll just take a coke, thank you.”

She turns to leave with a polite smile when Jun waves his hand frantically. They all watch as he finishes off his drink in one gulp and reaches across the table to hand her the glass.

“When you have time,” he says, smiling sweetly.

Soonyoung shakes his head in disbelief and sees his victim do the same out of the corner of his eye. He leans over to him and whispers, “He’s a lightweight on a full stomach, too.”

“I remember,” he nods, sounding exhausted by whatever memory is playing in his head.

“That’s right,” Soonyoung says, a few light switches flipping in his head, “you went to school with Jun and Minghao.”

“Mhm,” he hums, eyes still stuck on Jun attacking the food laid out in front of him.

“Your Korean is really good,” Soonyoung notes, grabbing a lump of noodles from Jun’s plate. 

As he does, Jun’s eyes snap up in his direction. He looks like he’s trying not to laugh, but he does anyway, choking on his food in the process. Soonyoung hands him his drink as the other boy lets out a noise of amusement.

“I would hope so,” he says, eyebrows raised.

Soonyoung looks between them. “Wait,” he says, his brain hurrying to catch up as Jun’s face crumbles into delighted laughter when he finally swallows. 

“Wait,” he repeats, the crease between on his forehead deepening. His brain crosses the finish line a moment later. He doesn’t know his name. He didn’t even ask. “What’s your name?”

“Jihoon,” he says, “Lee Jihoon.”

Soonyoung doesn’t bother hiding behind his hands this time, he just throws his head directly on the table and covers himself in his arms. That’s a Korean name if he’s ever heard one. 

In the background, he can hear Jun speaking in excited Mandarin to Minghao, who chimes in a moment later.

“You thought he was Chinese?” he laughs and Soonyoung lifts his head to scowl.

Minghao leans back into his laughter as Jun grasps at his hand, trying to calm himself. Jihoon looks between them, expression fond as he shakes his head. “Good to know you two are still assholes,” he says, earning a light smack on the shoulder from Minghao.

Soon after, something at the other end of the table catches Minghao’s attention and he turns away, leaving the rest of them to consider the plates in front of them. Soonyoung is still off-balance from embarrassment, but Jun quickly goes back to devouring his food and a length of silence passes before Soonyoung realizes he should probably be apologizing again. 

“I’m-” he starts, clearing his throat. Jihoon’s eyes are on him quick, and he shrinks back. “I’m really sorry. I can’t say this is my worst first impression ever, but it’s close.”

A corner of Jihoon’s mouth lifts. “It’s okay,” he says, gathering a long strand of something around his chopsticks. “When I met Jun, he thought I was a middle schooler that got lost. He dragged me all the way across campus before I remembered how to say _I’m 17_ in Mandarin.”

“That’s what you get for being short,” Jun says through a mouthful of food.

Jihoon glares and Soonyoung is impressed at how much bitterness he manages to fit in one expression.

“You didn’t speak much when you got there?” he asks.

“We moved about a month before school started so I had the basics,” Jihoon explains, pushing a hand into his hair, “but I hadn’t really interacted with a lot of native speakers, and you know how Jun talks.”

“Like someone’s squeezing all of the words out of him, yeah,” Soonyoung says and Jihoon snorts, hitting the air with his chopstick as if to say, _Exactly_.

Their conversation fades as food starts getting passed down the table and Soonyoung manages to snag enough off of various plates to make himself a meal. When things settle, he turns back to Jihoon and asks, “How’d you end up in China?” 

“My dad is an outreach coordinator for a tech company,” he says, reaching to steal a chunk of kimchi from Jun. “He traveled by himself when I was still young, but he was good enough that they wanted him in more permanent positions all over the place. We were in Bangkok first, then Tokyo, then New York, and then the office in Shenzhen.”

Soonyoung’s curiosity takes over after that and he continues his line of questioning for the next hour or so. Jihoon takes it easily, detailing his adjustment to a new city and a new language every two years while they eat. He tells Soonyoung about the stray cat he’d adopted in Tokyo, the street food in Bangkok, how much he hated the subway system in New York. Jun interrupts at random intervals, pressing him for specific stories as he goes. Minghao joins when he starts in on his time in China, the three of them reminiscing about the worst teachers, their uniforms, the nights they would sneak away to blast shitty music in the park. Soonyoung learns about Jun’s eyeliner phase and Minghao’s fake lip ring, almost busting a lung when the three of them describe how badly they fucked up trying to bleach Jihoon’s hair. 

It gets serious when they start talking about music. Something in Jihoon’s eyes changes, like he’s somewhere else when he tells Soonyoung about the first time he played piano. It’s an emotion to Soonyoung matches step by step. He tries his best to articulate what it feels like to find the right song, to hear it in his body and not just his head, and Jihoon follows close behind. They take words right out of each other’s mouths, like they’ve had this conversation before. Like they’ve been waiting to have it. 

When Jihoon excuses himself to the bathroom, it takes Soonyoung a moment to clear his head. He comes crashing back down when he notices the way Minghao is looking at him. 

“What?” he asks, pulling the sleeves of his shirt down over his hands self-consciously. “Was I being annoying?”

“No, I’m just surprised,” Minghao says, gingerly taking a sip of his drink. He looks smug over the rim of his glass and Soonyoung huffs.

“About what? That I can have a normal conversation and not make a fool of myself?”

“Yes,” Minghao laughs, but he looks like he has more to say. 

Soonyoung is ready to bite when someone’s phone starts to ring. For the first time in the last hour, his attention turns to Seokmin. 

“Hey!” Seokmin says, putting a finger into the ear unoccupied by his phone so he can hear whoever is on the other end over the noise of the restaurant. “Yeah, we’re just finishing dessert.”

The smile on his face is soft and Soonyoung tries not to read into it, reminding himself that Seokmin smiles all the time. He could be talking to his mom or someone from work or a complete stranger. Then the smile breaks wide open.

“That’s perfect,” he says into the receiver, “I’ll see you soon.”

Soonyoung averts his eyes when Seokmin hangs up and raises his voice to address the table. 

“Wonwoo says hi,” he says and a chorus of greetings come from different corners of their party. Soonyoung stays quiet and steadies himself on the edge of his chair. “Actually,” Seokmin continues, “he’s on his way.”

Soonyoung’s neck snaps so fast in Seokmin’s direction that he hears it crack. That can’t be right. Wonwoo works on Friday nights, always has. He never comes out with them, there’s got to be a mistake-

“Isn’t he working?” Seungkwan asks. Thank god they share a brain or else Soonyoung would have had to do it himself.

“He said he finished early,” Seokmin answers with a shrug. 

_Bullshit_ , says Soonyoung’s mind. Wonwoo has never finished early in his life. He’s always got more work to do, another chapter to edit, another email to send. And Soonyoung knows that he’s in the middle of a re-write, there’s no way he’d actually take the night off to spend time with his friends. He looks at Seokmin and realizes- he’s not taking time off for them.

The round of desserts that Seungcheol had ordered starts to disappear as Soonyoung white-knuckles his way to a normal breathing pattern. He doesn’t even realize that Jihoon has returned to the table or that he’s been staring at Seokmin until Jihoon asks under his breath, “Did he spit in the ice cream?”

“What?” Soonyoung flinches, the trance broken. Jihoon is looking between him and Seokmin. “No,” he says, backtracking as he smooths his hands over his thighs, “I’m just full.”

Jun starts chattering about the club they’re heading to after dinner and Soonyoung realizes that he’s still gripping his chair for dear life when he feels Minghao’s eyes on him again.

“Bathroom,” he says to no one in particular as he squeezes his way toward a dimly lit hallway on the other side of the restaurant. 

When he closes himself on the other side of the door, it’s quiet. He ducks his head under the stall doors to make sure the place is empty before positioning himself in front of the mirror, eyes wide. He turns on the faucet and stares at his face, checking for a quivering bottom lip or tears. He doesn’t feel like crying, he’s angry more than anything, but that doesn’t mean it won’t happen anyway. He tends to shed tears as soon as his emotions hit an 8. He’s at a 7.5 right now, maybe 7.75.

The water is cold to the touch and he hisses through his teeth as it splashes against his skin. Mingyu always says that that’s just bullshit from movies, but it seems to do the trick this time. He opens his eyes, looks in the mirror again.

 _You just weren’t enough_ , he tells himself. _We’ve been here before. Nothing new._

The thing is, shame has always had a calming effect on Soonyoung. It’s a familiar emotion, one that doesn’t require a lot of work. He internalizes and moves on. And that’s what he plans to do for the rest of the night, until he can find a way out of all of the other things begging for attention in his head. 

By the time he makes it back to the table, bills have been paid and coats are being gathered. Soonyoung breathes a sigh of relief, realizing his opportunity to escape has come faster than he’d hoped.

“It was nice to meet you,” he says to Jihoon as they all pile out of the restaurant, grouping together to figure out who’s driving who and who’s getting a cab.

“You’re leaving?” Jun asks, bottom lip stuck out in a pout.

“Yeah,” Soonyoung says, keeping his voice light, “I’ve got class in the morning and I don’t need a repeat of last week.” He turns to Jihoon again and says, “Sorry again about that.”

Jihoon waves him off, but his eyebrows are furrowed as he watches Soonyoung scramble to find his keys. He says his goodbyes to the rest of the party and apologizes to Mingyu, giving him a tight hug and one last _happy birthday_. Seungkwan looks like he wants to follow him down the street, but Soonyoung smiles as best as he can and keeps him at the curb.

“I’ll see you at home,” he tells him, and there’s a plea in his words.

Seungkwan understands. “See you at home,” he echoes, squeezing his hand.

Soonyoung turns and heads for his car, running away, again. 

-

12 APRIL | THURSDAY | 3:14 PM

As Chan ushers the last of their students out of the studio, Soonyoung stands in front of the mirror, trying to towel off all his sweat. 

“It’s got to be a gland problem,” he mutters to himself. 

“Did you say something?” Chan asks from the door.

“No,” Soonyoung answers through the towel, but Chan laughs anyway. He takes the towel off his face and turns around. “Why’d you ask if you heard what I said?”

“Wanted to hear you say it again,” Chan smiles, snatching his water bottle from the far side of the room. 

“I'll write you up for insubordination,” Soonyoung says as he throws the towel half-heartedly in Chan’s direction. He leans slightly to the left and it hits the ground with a wet smack.

“Do we even have forms for that?” 

“Probably not,” Soonyoung sighs as he sinks to the floor to stretch himself out again. 

Chan follows suit, scrolling through his phone while spreading his legs into a lazy split. He bends forward, touches his forehead to the floor. When he rights himself, there’s a song coming from the speakers of his phone, tinny and bright. He smiles, scoots forward, reaches for Soonyoung's hands. 

Soonyoung groans into the stretch, his feet braced against Chan’s. He can feel Chan holding his tongue, trying not to make a joke about Soonyoung’s aging body. Soonyoung rolls his eyes and moves into the next position.

By the time they’re loose again, Chan is bouncing on the balls of his feet, ready to get to work, the real work, but Soonyoung just feels drained. He’s usually riding an endorphin high right about now, brain firing on all cylinders at the prospect of creating something new. Instead, he tells Chan, “Let’s just go over the routines for next week.”

Chan crosses his arms. “Still blocked?” 

“I’m not blocked,” Soonyoung huffs, rolling his shoulders back. “I just haven’t found the right music.”

“That’s what you said last week,” Chan reminds him.

“I remember,” he says, shooting a look over his shoulder, “I was there.”

Chan shoots a look right back. “I’m just saying. Seems like you're blocked.”

“I know,” he finally sighs, letting his head fall back. He doesn’t mean to stare directly into the overhead light, but it happens anyway. When he blinks, the imprints follow him around the room. “I’ll figure it out.”

“You always do, boss,” Chan smiles, giving him a reassuring pat on the shoulder. 

“You’re a pain in the ass, did you know that?” 

“Yeah,” he laughs, crossing to the other side of the studio. His eyes are bright and wide, and Soonyoung can't help the smile that creeps onto his face to match. 

“Good,” he says, facing the mirror.

He might not be able to come up with anything new, but it’s comforting, the way his body knows what’s coming. The music starts and Soonyoung breathes.

-

After a long session in the studio, two naps, one shower, a cursory internet search, and phone call to Minghao, Soonyoung steps out of his apartment. The almost sheer shirt he’d stolen from Mingyu's closet is two sizes too big, but he's leaning into it, half of it tucked into the side of his jeans, half of it catching in the wind. Apparently, he’s leaning into the whole aesthetic of the night thanks to Seungkwan. He’d smeared a bit of dark shadow on Soonyoung’s eyes before he had the chance to say no, clucking his tongue as he pushed Soonyoung’s hair up off his forehead. 

“I’m not going out to get laid,” Soonyoung had complained, trying to swat his hands away. “I need inspiration.”

“Two birds,” Seungkwan said as he shoved a long gold earring into Soonyoung’s left ear. 

“Can I go? Am I fuckable enough for you?” Soonyoung hissed, wriggling out of his grasp.

“I mean, you’re not my type,” Seungkwan smirked, stepping back to consider him. After a good look up and down, he’d nodded his head. “But now I might actually consider it.”

As Soonyoung lowers himself into the driver seat of Mingyu’s car, he catches a glimpse of his reflection in the rearview mirror and he has to admit, he does look good. At least good enough to be driving Mingyu’s terrifyingly expensive car. He can hear Seungkwan's laugh in his head, his _I told you so_. He punches an address into his phone and starts the car. 

Wonwoo used to say there’s no such thing as a "block," that his colleagues who complained of it were using it as an excuse. _It’s just fear_ , he’d say, _fear and a lack of work ethic_. But Soonyoung doesn't know what else to call it, the empty space stretching out before him whenever he reaches for new movement, a new silhouette, anything. 

By the time he finds a parking spot in the busiest part of the city, all the lights from the clubs and bars that line the next few blocks ricocheting across the sleek titanium of skyscrapers, his heart rate has kicked up a few notches from anxiety. What if this doesn’t work like before? What if he’s really stuck this time?

He turns off the car and shakes the thoughts from his head, trying not to slip into some self-fulfilling prophecy when his phone vibrates with a message.

[From: Hao]  
_Try Onyx on 5th, the cover is more but their lineups have been good lately. Let me know if you change your mind about wanting company._

Soonyoung smiles. He types out a quick reply and locates the club on a map, thankful that he has friends who are actually plugged into trendy shit. Left to his own devices, he’d probably be walking into a place that plays the same 20 radio hits all night. 

After starting in the wrong direction, he finally ends up in front of a polished doorway with the name of the club etched above it, complete with a bouncer and a small line of people waiting to get in. The cover charge is _a lot_ more than the going rate and he tries not to wince as he hands over the bills, but stepping inside, he finds that it doesn’t hurt as much.

It’s a small club made even smaller by the black marble that covers every surface. The effect is worth it. The air feels heavier with bass, the strobes push against the walls and the floors, the whole place hums with energy, waiting. Even the bartenders fit the feeling, decked out in black and sharp against the brightly colored bottles.

He glances up at the still empty stage tucked into the back corner and checks his phone, working out how long he’s got until the first act goes on. Plenty of time for a drink.

The girl behind the stretch of bar closest to him turns when he approaches, her plaited hair swinging as she rattles off a list of specials over the subdued pulse of music. He orders something he’s never heard of before and she smiles, reaching for a glass. The drink that’s handed to him moments later is almost opaque, and it goes down heady and sweet as he tries to find a place to wait for the show to start.

People begin to crowd when the overhead lights wind down into nothing, red neon taking their place on the back wall. Soonyoung props himself up against a pillar and watches the first DJ get ready to go. 

He’s surprised how good her set is, mostly left of center R&B cranked into high tempos and corded with synth. His hips move mindlessly, but it’s not quite enough to get him out onto the floor. Instead, he tries to understand how the crowd moves, separating bodies into waves, watching the angles of arms thrown in the air. When she’s finished, the audience is wound into a restless state of anticipation, not quite over the edge they’re looking for. Soonyoung orders another drink.

His back is to the stage when the next set begins as he leans over the bar, but the mirrored shelf in front of him shows him the reflection of someone taking the stage. After a moment, the music comes in quiet, a quick snap of notes with an oriental vibe that catch in the muscles of his shoulders. The layers start to build on themselves as Soonyoung turns, intrigued. He makes it a few steps before the rhythm starts to twist toward a drop, and when it finally lets go, he stops. The whole place shakes with distortion, metal, heartbeat. 

He pushes his way toward the floor, a sick sense of impatience in his gut. This might be what he's looking for, the breaking point, and he wants so badly to come out on the other side of his head. 

The music slows as he’s pulled into the middle of the crowd, letting everyone around him move until he's got a good view of the stage. The sweat and breath come from all sides and he lets it, giving into the pulse of the crowd. A smile pushes at him from the inside when images start forming in his head. They come in a rush, sharp outlines of bodies and movement. 

He opens his eyes, smile wide, and gets hit with a blast of strobe that blinds him momentarily. When his vision clears, he's looking up at the person behind the turntables, the silhouette of his jaw obscured in the darkness. He lifts his head and Soonyoung stills when the lights hit him at the right angle. He knows that face. 

Jihoon’s hands don't stop moving as Soonyoung stares up at him, mouth open. His hair is pushed down onto his forehead and messy, almost hiding his eyes, but it’s him, Soonyoung is sure. The song fades into something else and when the crowd cheers, Jihoon smiles.

-

Soonyoung wishes Jun was with him. He would have at least ten ideas about how to distract the bouncer guarding the small hallway that leads to the backstage area. As it stands, Soonyoung is alone and idea-less.

It’s been an hour since his set ended and still no Jihoon. Soonyoung is starting to worry that he left from some secret back door to avoid the crowd, but he’d seen two other two DJs that performed exit from the front, so he’s holding out hope. He goes to check his phone out of habit and finds that it’s still dead. Piece of shit.

He doesn’t notice the girl in a red dress stumbling toward him until it’s too late, and when some of her drink sloshes down the front of his shirt, he jumps. She apologizes and starts looking for something to dry him off with, but she’s a little too tipsy to find anything.

“It’s okay,” Soonyoung laughs, taking a step toward the bar. He grabs a handful of napkins and presses them to his torso. She looks mortified, so Soonyoung yells over the music, “It’s not my shirt. Don’t worry.”

She gives him another apologetic smile as one of her friends pulls her away. In the space where she was, Soonyoung catches a glimpse of bleach-blonde hair. 

He pushes through the crowd as quickly as he can until Jihoon finally comes into sight, stopped in the empty doorway between the club and backstage. He’s talking to someone wearing a headset, and Soonyoung doesn’t want to interrupt but he also doesn’t want to wait for another hour. 

He skids to a stop in front of the bouncer who eyes him warily, so Soonyoung puts on his most convincing smile and points at the two men talking behind him. 

“That’s my friend,” he shouts, trying to be heard over the music, but it comes out a little frantic. The bouncer looks at him and looks back, but doesn’t move. Soonyoung takes a step closer and the bouncer’s hand shoots out.

“No, really,” Soonyoung says, putting his hands up, “I know him.”

Just as it looks like the bouncer is about to pick him up by the shoulders and less-than-gently escort him out, Jihoon steps into the light.

For a moment, Soonyoung is worried that Jihoon doesn’t remember him because his expression stays blank, but then his eyes have doubled in size, moon-wide.

“Hey!” Soonyoung smiles, giving him a small wave. He leans forward when Jihoon doesn’t respond, and asks, “Will you tell this nice man that you know me?”

Jihoon unfreezes and looks up at the bouncer, who is watching him intently. He looks back at Soonyoung. He shakes his head like he’s clearing out the dust and says, “Sorry, it’s fine, he’s with me.”

The bouncer removes his hand slowly, like he’s still not sure, so Soonyoung crosses into the hallway before he can change his mind. 

“Sorry for ambushing you,” Soonyoung says as he presses into the far wall to allow for people to walk by them. Jihoon’s expression seems to be stuck in shock, so Soonyoung goes on. “I would have asked Minghao for your number to let you know that I was here, but my phone is dead.”

Jihoon nods but doesn’t do much else. 

“Can I buy you a drink?” Soonyoung offers, nodding toward the bar across the club. Jihoon follows his line of sight.

“Sure,” he says, eyeing the bar. He adjusts the bag on his shoulder as the music erupts into a crescendo and he seems to reconsider. “Could we-” he starts, glancing at Soonyoung, “there's a place across the street?”

“Sounds good,” Soonyoung smiles, bouncing on his toes. He’s wrapped with energy at this point, the two drinks he’d had earlier washed from his system by adrenaline and hope. He feels normal now that the creative part of his brain is functioning properly and all of the ideas are close to bursting out of him.

“Okay,” Jihoon says before heading down the hallway. “There’s another door back here.”

“I knew it,” Soonyoung says, following close behind. Jihoon turns to shoot him a questioning look and Soonyoung waves his hand dismissively. “Nothing, don’t worry.”

When they make it out onto the street, the air is cold against his damp skin. He hadn’t realized how hot it was in there or how badly his ears were ringing until the music is gone. As the door shuts behind them, the noise in Soonyoung’s ears gets louder and he starts to worry until Jihoon grabs his phone from his back pocket. Not his ears, just the phone.

“Sorry,” Jihoon says, looking at the screen, “I have to take this.”

“No problem,” Soonyoung replies, stretching out his arms. 

Jihoon turns his back as he answers the call and Soonyoung takes the time to spruce himself up, retucking his shirt and making sure his hair is in the right place. Jihoon talks quietly into the receiver, switching back and forth between Korean and English rapidly enough that Soonyoung lifts an eyebrow. Impressive.

After a minute, Jihoon turns back to him and nods over his shoulder toward a row of low-lit buildings on the other side of the street, ear still pressed to the phone. Soonyoung takes in the street names and neon signs as they go.

Jihoon stops outside a bar decorated with string lights and hanging plants, rolling his shoulders back. 

“Yeah, that’s no problem,” he says in Korean. “Hey, I gotta go but I’ll see you in a few hours.” There's a pause as the person on the other end gets the message. “Alright, have a safe flight,” he says before finally hanging up.

“Sorry,” he sighs, shoving his phone back into his pocket. “My roommate is flying in from Japan in a few hours and I have to pick him up.”

“They have flights this late?” Soonyoung asks, almost positive that it’s past one.

“On the cheap airlines,” Jihoon says with a wry smile. He looks at the bar, which seems to be close to empty. “This look okay?” 

“Definitely,” he nods, eager to get off his feet.

They grab a booth near the front of the place as a tired-looking waiter comes to take their order. Jihoon orders and a beer and Soonyoung asks for the same before a somewhat awkward silence settles over them.

“So,” Soonyoung starts, folding his arms across the table. He's not sure how to do this, but he has to start somewhere. “That was incredible.”

“What?” Jihoon asks, ripping small pieces off a napkin in front of him.

“You, your set,” Soonyoung urges, trying to catch Jihoon’s gaze. “It was your music, wasn't it? Like, stuff you wrote.”

“Oh, yeah,” he says, his hands going still. A flush of color rises at the base of his neck. “Thanks. I didn’t know anyone was going to be there- anyone that I know, I mean.”

“I didn't know either. Minghao just recommended the place to me, I really had no idea. If my phone wasn’t dead, I’d be yelling at him right now for not warning me.”

“Well,” Jihoon coughs, looking down at the table. “That's not really his fault. I don't think he knew that I was going to be there.”

“No?” Soonyoung asks, his eyebrows coming together.

“Yeah, no,” he says. “It’s complicated.”

He doesn’t elaborate, so Soonyoung waits, not sure if he’s allowed to press someone he only sort of knows for answers or if he should just stay quiet. Apparently, Jihoon wants to explain because he scrubs his hands over his face and starts again.

“When Hao and Jun have seen me perform,” he says, finally looking up, “and your friends, that one time at the club you guys go to. And you, I guess, but you probably don’t remember that.”

“Nope,” Soonyoung agrees, and Jihoon laughs quietly. Their drinks arrive a moment later and Jihoon takes a long sip.

“That time, and the times before that,” he continues, putting down his glass, “it’s just been like, basic DJ-ing. Remixes of music that everyone knows, normal club work.”

“Oh,” Soonyoung hums, catching on. “They haven’t heard your stuff.”

Jihoon looks up at him, surprised. 

“I get it,” Soonyoung says, waving him off. “When I first started working at the studio and doing my own pieces, I didn’t let anyone come watch until I’d been doing it for six months.”

It’s a vulnerable thing, sharing yourself with other people.

“I won't tell anyone if you don’t want me to,” Soonyoung offers, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand after a sip. “That also explains the stage name.”

Jihoon visibly relaxes, his shoulders coming down from his ears as he lets out a breath. 

“Yeah,” he sighs. “I feel stupid hiding it, but, you know.”

“Yeah,” Soonyoung repeats, “I definitely know. Nothing to feel stupid about.”

A large group of already drunk people file into the place then, shouting over each other as they grab seats at the bar. Both of them watch the look on the waiter’s face as he tries to take their orders, and Jihoon shakes his head. They sit in a silence for a little while longer, listening to random snatches of their conversation, sharing looks when someone says something particularly stupid.

“Speaking of what I do,” Soonyoung says after a few minutes. He’s still nervous but determined to finish what he started. 

Jihoon tears his eyes away from two of the drunk guys fighting over a straw and meets his eyes. They’re clear and sharp now, like they were last weekend. He must have been worried that Soonyoung was going to tell their friends, and now that he knows he won’t, he’s back to himself. Soonyoung swallows. He forgot how intense his stare is like this, when it’s just focused on him.

“Choreography, I mean,” he stumbles, trying to get his words in the right order. “I wanted to ask you a favor.”

“Go for it,” Jihoon says over the rim of his drink. 

“I’m working on my portfolio right now,” he says, back-tracking. “I want to apply for a position at a few different agencies as a choreographer. Like, not just at a studio, but for idols or something like that.” Apparently, it’s his turn to mangle a napkin because he can’t seem to stop. “I have some really solid pieces under my belt already, but I need something more experimental.” He has no idea if Jihoon is following his line of thought, but he keeps going anyway. “I’ve been trying to find the right music for a piece like that, but I hit a block a few weeks ago and nothing was working.”

He looks up and Jihoon is watching him, one corner of his mouth inching up. Maybe he is following.

“And you’re probably not comfortable with me using any of your actual music," he says, pulling his hands into his lap. “But I was wondering if you would help me re-work some music to fit what I’m looking for. I really,” he starts and then reconsiders. He doesn’t want to come off as trying to flatter Jihoon into helping him, but it's the truth, so he says it anyway. 

“I really like the way you put stuff together and I think it's what I'm looking for,” he says in a rush.

He’s looking down at his hands, and he feels small waiting for an answer. It’s fitting though, how they’ve switched positions. Vulnerability calls for a give and take.

“Okay,” Jihoon says.

Soonyoung looks up and Jihoon nods, says again, “Okay.”

-

15 APRIL | SUNDAY | 4:45 PM

The line at the coffeeshop is too long, but he needs the caffeine, so he waits. 

He scrolls through the messages on his phone and opens the same one again, double-checking the address. Jihoon’s apartment is actually only a few blocks away from his, but he wants to make sure he doesn’t show up at the wrong door. He’s definitely done that before.

On a whim, he types out a message and sends it, not even sure if Jihoon will respond fast enough, but before the next person even finishes ordering, his phone vibrates.

[From: Jihoon]  
_iced americano, why?_

Soonyoung might not know too much about Jihoon, but it tracks that he drinks the nastiest kind of coffee there is. He shoots back a reply and pockets his phone as the line moves forward. 

As a frazzled looking girl in a university sweatshirt practically sprints by him, clutching a cup close to her a chest, a voice rings out through the coffeeshop that he recognizes. When he places it a moment later, a surge of panic shoots up his spine. 

He hasn’t seen Wonwoo in almost a month, hasn’t even thought about him much in the past few days, which is probably why he hadn’t considered that he might be at the coffeeshop that he’d introduced Soonyoung to last year. 

His motor functions take over not long after, knees starting to bounce in anticipation. The large part of him that wants to run out of the building, hide around the corner until he’s sure that Wonwoo is gone, is loud and clear in his head, but- _But_ , another part of him says. If he keeps running, when does it stop?

He’s halfway to a decision when it gets taken from him because suddenly, Wonwoo is standing in front of him.

“Hey!” he says, smiling. “I didn't see you back here.”

“Hey,” Soonyoung gasps, pulling out a matching smile. “Sorry, I didn’t see you either.”

The line moves forward and Soonyoung moves with it, Wonwoo close behind. 

“How are you?” Wonwoo asks and Soonyoung tries hard not to grit his teeth.

“Good, good,” he says, glancing at the counter. Only two people away. “How about you?”

“I just submitted my third draft,” he says, rubbing a hand at the back of his neck. “So, that’s nice.”

“That’s awesome,” Soonyoung says, flinching at his own voice, how everything out of his mouth sounds rehearsed. 

“Yeah, it feels good,” Wonwoo says, not catching on, like always.

Soonyoung looks at the counter again, silently praying that the woman in front of him has a simple order. He’s about to launch into a story about Jun to fill the silence, worried that Wonwoo is going to bring up Seokmin or ask how he’s been again, more seriously this time, when his name is called at the end of the bar. Soonyoung jumps at the chance.

“It was good to see you,” he says, adding a wave for emphasis. 

This time, the message goes through and Wonwoo looks a little confused, but he says, “You too,” and steps away. 

By the time he reaches the other end of the counter, it’s Soonyoung’s turn to order and he’s pretty sure he’s safe. When he finishes paying, he looks around and doesn’t recognize anyone. It takes him a minute to breathe properly, but as he leaves the building with his drinks and still doesn’t catch sight of a familiar face on the street, he exhales.

He’s not really paying attention and when he leans down to take a sip of his drink to calm himself, he grabs the wrong straw and gets a mouthful of bitter. It's enough to shock him back to reality because he snorts, ready to tell Jihoon how horrible his taste in coffee is. 

His hands are only sort of shaking. He can handle that.

-

When Jihoon answers his door, it’s in a hoodie that practically swallows him whole and Soonyoung tries not to laugh. 

“What?” Jihoon asks, crossing his arms. 

Soonyoung raises his eyebrows, looks him up and down. Jihoon groans.

“It’s comfortable,” he says, pulling the sleeves down to cover his hands, which doesn’t help the image. 

“Yeah,” Soonyoung nods exaggeratedly, “it’s like a sleeping bag you can wear.”

“Shut up,” Jihoon mumbles, snatching his drink from Soonyoung’s hand. He takes a sip and gives Soonyoung another angry glare before stepping aside. “Come in, I guess.”

“Wow, thanks so much,” Soonyoung laughs, slipping off his shoes as Jihoon closes the door behind him. “I feel very welcomed.”

“I should have known that Minghao and Jun’s friends would be just as annoying as they are,” he says, pushing the hood off of his head.

“Pretty sure I could say the same thing about you,” Soonyoung shoots back.

Jihoon’s glare gets more intense and Soonyoung meets it with a bright smile. It’s interesting, how easily they fall into the familiar rhythm of amicable bullshit. It probably does have a lot to do with the friends they share, but it still feels good. 

“You have horrible taste in coffee,” Soonyoung adds as Jihoon leads him toward his room.

Jihoon mumbles something back, but Soonyoung doesn’t catch it because he’s too distracted by what he sees when Jihoon opens the door.

His mouth falls open slightly as Jihoon goes to sit in the chair in front of his large desk, which is filled with an oversized desktop computer and extremely expensive looking equipment that Soonyoung can't even begin to understand. Even more, there are multiple amps on the floor, two guitars, a bass, and some other miscellaneous stringed instruments hung on the wall, as well as a keyboard and two smaller keyboard-looking things next to it. All of the stainless steel and black is a shock against the white of the walls. 

“Holy shit,” Soonyoung breathes, not daring to take a step further in. 

Jihoon smiles a small smile and Soonyoung blanks, repeats, "Holy shit."

“What?” Jihoon asks, like it’s not obvious.

“Where did you- how did you afford all of this?” It’s not his most tactful question, but an important one.

Jihoon laughs as he swivels in his chair and turns on the computer which makes a ridiculous noise as it powers up. “I write music,” he says.

“Yes,” Soonyoung says, finally stepping all the way in. “But you're supposed to be a starving artist like the rest of us. I bought you coffee because I figured you were living in a hovel. The only reason I have a nice apartment is because Mingyu pays for most of it.”

“I don’t just write music for myself,” Jihoon says, pulling up his browser and clicking around until he finds what he's looking for.

Soonyoung is about to ask what that’s supposed to mean when a song that he definitely recognizes starts to play. He rushes over to the computer and stares at the screen until it sinks in. 

“You wrote this,” he says, taking a step back. 

Jihoon hums and adds, “There are few more you might know.”

Soonyoung looks at him, looks at the computer screen, looks back at him. It seems like he’s trying not to smile.

“Are you bragging right now? After I just told you that I basically can’t afford to pay rent?” 

“No,” Jihoon says, ducking his head down as his cheeks go slightly pink. It’s a new look on him. Soonyoung catalogs it in the back of his head. “I mean, a little bit. I don’t usually tell people about writing music, so it just-”

“I’m kidding,” Soonyoung cuts in, realizing that Jihoon isn't quite up to speed with when to take him seriously. “That’s amazing,” he says, shaking his head in disbelief. Well, not actual disbelief. He’s heard Jihoon’s music, it’s nowhere near impossible.

“New subject,” Jihoon mumbles, quickly closing out the window. 

“What?” Soonyoung asks, cocking out a hip. “I thought you wanted to brag.”

“I thought you wanted to work,” he counters and the acidity in his voice makes Soonyoung laugh. Jihoon glares at him and Soonyoung has to admit, it’s effective. He must have worked hard on it. 

“I do,” he says, shoving the rest of his laughter down into his chest as he grabs a spare chair from in front of the keyboard. 

Jihoon eyes him as he scoots up next to him and Soonyoung responds with a toothy smile. He rolls his eyes, but there’s a smile on his face too, so he counts it as a win.

“Alright,” Jihoon says, “try to keep up.”

-

12 MAY | SATURDAY | 10:55 AM

It becomes a thing after that.

The first time is mostly educational, just Jihoon going over the basics of how to take apart a piece of music and put it back together. The second time, they spend most of their time listening to Jihoon’s music instead of working and Soonyoung walks away with more ideas than he thought could fit inside of him. By the third, Jihoon plays him a new song that he’s working on and Soonyoung plots an entire piece in two hours sprawled out on the floor. Over the next few weeks, Soonyoung spends half of his evenings in the quiet focus of Jihoon’s room, the two of them working on their own material and occasionally breaking the silence to ask for opinions or help or just to listen. 

Soonyoung meets his roommate, Vernon, a friend he’d made in New York and reconnected with when they both ended up back in Korea. He starts bringing Vernon coffee too, which turns into take-out dinners crowded around their television twice a week. Vernon laughs almost as loud as Soonyoung does, which the two of them use to annoy Jihoon, much to Soonyoung’s delight. 

Sometimes, he presses his thumb between Jihoon’s eyebrows to smooth out the wrinkles that appear when they’re being especially irritating. That becomes a thing, too, and Jihoon doesn’t seem to mind. 

Soonyoung is used to it, falling quickly into someone else’s life. He has a habit of finding people that he wants to keep around and making a place for himself. But he’s pretty sure that it’s not Jihoon’s style if the way Vernon looks at them sometimes means anything, which he thinks it does. 

Still, Jihoon always asks when Soonyoung is coming over again each time he leaves, and it turns on something warm inside of him, like a light left on for too long. 

Today, however, as Soonyoung waits for Jihoon to arrive at the studio, the light has gone from warm to bright-red hot, a spark of nerves compressing everything, eating him up from the inside.

He checks the clock mounted on the back wall and then checks his phone, just in case. No new messages, still 5 minutes until class starts. The students spread across the room are stretching and catching up, some of them crowded around Chan as he helps them walk over into backbends or push into splits. 

_He’s not coming_ , Soonyoung thinks. He walks over to the sound system and makes sure that everything is set up correctly, anything to distract himself. _Maybe that’s a good thing._

It was just an offer to begin with, a way to thank Jihoon for agreeing to let Soonyoung use one of his songs for class, but when Jihoon had said he was definitely coming the other night, it had felt real. Real enough that Soonyoung has been fighting with his nerves for the past 48 hours at the thought of Jihoon actually watching something of that came out his head.

“Hey guys,” he calls to the class, his back still to them. “Remember to turn off your phones so they don’t go off while we’re filming.”

A chorus of replies sound from across the room, including a very loud something from Chan, who he turns to address when he catches sight of someone waiting in the doorway. 

All of the anxiety pooling inside of him jumps to his throat when he sees Jihoon scanning the room, looking lost and thoroughly concerned. He embraces the spike in his heart rate, lets it push him toward the door. 

“Hey,” he half-shouts, trying to get Jihoon’s attention. “Over here.”

When Jihoon finally sees him, the look of relief that washes over him is almost comical. He scoots by a pair of dancers comparing their left extensions and stops in front of Soonyoung with a sigh.

“I got lost,” he mumbles, “very lost.”

“Sorry, I should have warned you about the complex,” Soonyoung grimaces, shoving his hands in the pockets of his joggers. He’s self-conscious in a way he hasn’t been in a long time, doesn’t want it to show. “Thanks for coming. You really didn’t have to.”

“I know, you told me plenty of times. Twice on Wednesday."

“I just meant,” Soonyoung says, pulling his hands out of his pockets and putting them back in. “It’s all the way across town and everything.”

Jihoon apparently catches the nervous habit and he tilts his head to the side, narrows his eyes. “You're acting weird.”

“No I’m not,” Soonyoung says, fighting against the urge to take his hands out of his pocket again.

“Yes, you are.” 

“Well,” Soonyoung snaps, “If you had known I was there that night I saw you perform, wouldn’t you have acted weird?”

“No,” he says with a smile.

“Bullshit,” Soonyoung says and when Jihoon laughs, he adds, “You’re an asshole.”

Soonyoung hadn’t even noticed Chan approaching and when he smacks a hand on his back, it makes him jump. Jihoon gives him a very specific look. 

“You must be Soonyoung’s friend,” Chan says, glancing at Soonyoung. “He only talks to his friends like that.”

“Yeah,” Soonyoung says as Chan slings his arm over his shoulder, “because all my friends are assholes.”

“I feel like there’s a more common denominator in that equation,” Chan grins. Soonyoung takes a swing at him.

“I like him,” Jihoon hums, nodding approvingly. 

“Anyway,” Soonyoung groans, “Chan, this is Jihoon. Jihoon, this is my little shit of an assistant, Chan.”

“Nice to meet you,” he says, holding out his hand to Jihoon, “I really love the song. Thanks for letting us use it.”

“Yeah, of course,” Jihoon replies as they shake, “it’s nothing, really.”

“No,” Chan assures him, “it's amazing. And I don’t know what you did a few weeks ago, but he’s been churning out amazing stuff non-stop since then, so thanks for that too-”

“Alright!” Soonyoung yells, grabbing Chan by the collar and shoving him toward the class. “Time for warm up!”

When he turns back to Jihoon, his lips are pressed together in a stifled smile. Soonyoung makes a face but goes to find him a chair anyway. Once Jihoon is settled near the front of room and the class is through with their warm-up, he takes his place at the front. 

“You guys know the drill,” he says, putting his hands on his hips. “Chan and I will go through first with the music, then we’ll all do half-time, then full with counts, then music. And you all figured out your filming groups last week, right?”

Multiple voices answer him and he smiles, feeling less nervous in teaching mode. 

“I would also like to introduce our guest,” he says, shooting Jihoon a look over his shoulder. When he doesn’t move, Soonyoung waves him forward. He still doesn’t move, so Soonyoung turns with a sigh and grabs his arm, dragging him up. 

“This is Lee Jihoon,” he says, planting his feet. “Everyone say hello!”

The class practically roars their greeting at him and Jihoon is so surprised that he stumbles back a step, but Soonyoung keeps him upright. 

“Nice,” he laughs under his breath before speaking up again, “He wrote the song that we’ve been working with.”

A number of whispers and murmurs shoot through the class, and Soonyoung smiles. “Do you guys like the song?”

The shouts are even louder this time and he checks Jihoon’s expression out of the corner of his eye. He’s smiling politely, but his ears have gone completely red and Soonyoung can’t help but laugh.

“Alright,” he says quietly, letting go of Jihoon’s arm to pat him on the shoulder, “you can sit back down now, I’m done humiliating you.”

“Thank you,” Jihoon breathes before escaping to his seat.

Soonyoung doesn’t bother wiping the grin off of his face as he motions toward the class, all of them pressing back toward the far wall to give him and Chan room to move. 

When he turns to face the mirror, he tries his hardest not to look at Jihoon. His adrenaline is in full control right now, and it’s a much more productive fuel than nerves. He looks anyway. Jihoon is focused on him, one of his legs propped up on the chair and his arms wrapped around it. Soonyoung squares his shoulders.

He’s scared to open this door to someone new, he always is. But there’s another part of the process that’s thrilling, because deep down, he knows he’s good at this. He knows that this is his thing, the thing that makes people understand him, who he is, or at least, who he wants to be. He nods, and Chan starts the music.

-

They’ve been filming for over two hours when he finally gets a chance to check in with Jihoon again. 

His reaction when Soonyoung had danced the first time was the one he was looking for- mouth open, eyes wider than he’d ever seen them before. That’s what he’s always looking for, but the satisfaction had compounded, rolling over heavy in his gut when Jihoon had mouthed, _Holy shit_ , at him when no one was looking.

Since then, Soonyoung’s been preoccupied with students and hasn’t really had much of a chance to say anything to him besides the intermittent, “You really don't have to stay for the whole class,” between each group, all of which Jihoon had waved off, never taking his eyes away from the people in front of him.

Soonyoung doesn’t know if it’s a compliment, how invested he seems to be, or a criticism. He’s slightly concerned that when they leave, Jihoon is going to immediately launch into a breakdown of places where he can improve, like he does when Soonyoung struggles to put a piece of music together like he taught him. 

He shakes off the thought and gives the remaining students a quick break before walking over to Jihoon who immediately says, “I’m staying.”

“I wasn’t going to say anything,” Soonyoung says, falling down on the floor next to his chair. 

“Yes, you were,” Jihoon says without looking at him. 

“You don’t know that,” he huffs, “maybe I was going to offer you a comfier chair.”

“Were you?” Jihoon asks, the shadow of a smile on his face as he watches Chan take a student through a difficult eight-count. 

Soonyoung doesn’t answer. Instead of teasing him further, Jihoon seems to be counting in his head and Soonyoung starts to say something when he asks, “In the part during the bridge, that syncopated section, does the left foot go first or the right?”

“Left,” Soonyoung answers after running through it in his head. He pauses. “Are you trying to memorize the choreography?”

“No,” he says quickly, matching his expression to Soonyoung’s.

Soonyoung wants to call bullshit but Chan interrupts then, grabbing Soonyoung by the wrist and hauling him upright. “Come on,” he says, patting him on the back, “almost done.”

“Fine,” Soonyoung groans under his breath so that the kids can’t hear him. “I’m tired.”

“You can throw a tantrum in like, ten minutes,” Chan assures him. 

Soonyoung doesn’t even have the energy to smack him, but he tries his hardest to put on a smile as he walks back to the center of the room.

“We only have time for a few more groups, so let’s do one with guys and one with girls,” he tells them. He looks around the room, counting heads before announcing, “Guys first.”

It takes a moment, but two students step forward. “Thank you,” Soonyoung says with a grateful smile, eyeing the rest of them, “Anyone else?”

No one moves. He zeroes in on one of his younger students at the back of the room and gives him a pleading look. “At least one more,” he says, “I know you’re tired, but-”

Soonyoung is cut off by a loud whoop from Chan, smiling bigger than he has all day, which is a feat. He looks for the source of commotion and finds Jihoon. 

He’s pulling his sweatshirt over his head, walking directly toward the center of the room. 

“I didn’t know you could dance,” Chan laughs, bending over to brace himself on his knees in anticipation.

“I don't know if I can either,” Jihoon mumbles, taking the left position, “It’s been a few years.”

The students next to him look equal parts excited and terrified, so he nods to them and asks, “Do you mind?”

Both of them shake their heads, one of them grinning wildly now as they look to Soonyoung, who has not taken a good breath in the last thirty seconds. 

“Do _you_ mind?” Jihoon asks, tilting his head to the side. There’s something a mischievous in his voice and it shoots Soonyoung straight in the knees. 

“No,” he stutters, realizing that he needs to answer. “I mean, no, if you want to-”

“Let’s do it!” Chan shouts, looking like he’s about to jump out of his skin. 

Before Soonyoung can stop whatever is about to happen, the music starts and there’s nothing he can do but watch.

Soonyoung has come to realize that Jihoon is a lot of things, but he never expected this. He didn’t prepare himself for this scenario, the way Jihoon throws himself into the movement like he’s known it for a week, a month, something bigger than that. It’s not perfect, of course, he misses things here and there, comes in late a few times, but that’s not the point. The point is what’s behind the actual choreography, the balance, the hard stop and the quiet roll, the timing of his hips, how the details seem to reach even his fingernails. 

Soonyoung’s hand comes up to cover his mouth without him realizing, and he’s laughing, absolutely floored. 

Chan and the students watching are cheering, Chan bouncing up and down on his toes at the sidelines. When the music stops, it takes a second, but Jihoon finally breaks, bending over in laughter and covering his hands with his face. 

Soonyoung hasn’t moved from his spot, and Chan looks over at him, his howl of laughter doubling in size when he does.

“Look at him,” he says, clutching at his stomach. “He had no idea.”

Jihoon does and even from across the room, it’s a brilliant thing, the smile that’s big enough to make his eyes disappear.

Everyone is watching Soonyoung, and he closes his mouth, blinks. He turns his gaze to Jihoon and fixes him with a look. 

“What the hell,” he says. He tries to keep a straight face, but it doesn’t hold for long. He’s laughing again. “What was that?”

Chan’s laughter joins his and Soonyoung shakes his head. 

“Are you just good at everything?” he asks, throwing his hands up in the air.

Jihoon smiles then, the same one from before and it’s not any easier the second time around. He steps away from the middle of the floor, coming toward Soonyoung as Chan rounds up the next group.

“What the hell,” Soonyoung whispers again as he passes by. Jihoon doesn’t respond besides a smile, just goes back to his seat and slips his sweatshirt over his head like nothing life-changing just happened.

“I think Soonyoung has had enough for one day,” Chan says to the class, and Soonyoung turns at the sound of his name. “How about we let him go early so he can process his friend being a better dancer than him?”

The students nod in agreement, a few of them sending Soonyoung their condolences. 

“I’ll make you run laps next week,” he says, pointing at some particular trouble-makers, including Chan, before turning to gather up his things. 

When he’s ready to go, Jihoon is already waiting at the door. 

They make it out into the hall before Soonyoung looks at him again, out of the corner of his eye. His expression reads as overly pleased with himself and Soonyoung knocks him in the shoulder, sighing. 

“You’re kind of incredible,” he admits.

Jihoon laughs. “Pretty sure I could say the same thing about you.”

-

25 MAY | FRIDAY | 11:21 AM

Seungkwan smacks his hand on the table. He grits his teeth and Soonyoung watches the muscles in his jaw move back and forth. 

“I know this one,” he says, eyes closed, “I swear I do.”

Soonyoung bounces his thigh, squinting at highlighted sections in front of him. 

“You definitely know this one,” he urges, leaning forward. “It’s a long one, last part of the scene.”

“This is the last line?” Seungkwan asks, and then answers himself. “Oh shit, okay, yeah.” 

He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes again, speeding through the words, and Soonyoung scrambles to make sure he gets all of them right. 

“Hell yeah,” Soonyoung says when Seungkwan is through, holding up his hand for a hi-five. Seungkwan grins, but it’s not all there.

“I should have known that,” he groans, smacking Soonyoung’s hand. “We open in two weeks, I should have known that.”

“Seungkwan,” Soonyoung sighs, pushing Seungkwan’s script toward him, “Do you see all of those highlighted things?” He rolls his eyes exaggeratedly, but Soonyoung keeps pressing. “You do remember that you’re the lead, right? You have more lines than anyone else, and from what you’ve been complaining about for a week, you’re already more off-book than half the cast.”

“I know,” he says, scrubbing his hand over his face.

“You’re doing so good,” Soonyoung sing-songs, reaching over to shake Seungkwan’s arm in the air. “Stop focusing on the negatives!”

Seungkwan lets him keep going for a moment, but he snatches his arm back when Soonyoung starts making a jack-off motion.

“What is up with you?” he laughs. “When did you start giving me pep talks instead of the other way around?”

Soonyoung scoffs. “You make it sound like my life is always a disaster.”

“Your words,” Seungkwan shrugs.

“No, definitely your words,” he says, crossing his arms. 

They both keep up the act for as long as they can, but Seungkwan lets go first. 

“I am being a little serious, though,” he laughs as Soonyoung pouts across the table. “The interview and everything is amazing, but maybe it has something to do with where you disappear to every other night?” he asks, raising his brow.

“I don’t disappear anywhere. You know where I am,” he says, keeping his gaze even.

“Yeah,” Seungkwan says with a solemn nod, “I definitely do.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing,” Seungkwan answers, putting his hands up. “Just that, I don’t know. Seems like something to me.” Soonyoung looks at him. “Something good,” he adds. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says, folding his hands in front of him. If Seungkwan wants to have this conversation right now, he’s going to have to work for it.

Fortunately, he’s exhausted from finals and rehearsal, so he just sighs and gives up. “Fine,” he says, closing his script. “New subject, I get it.”

Soonyoung smiles in victory and Seungkwan goes to kick him under the table when Mingyu walks in, his hair mussed from sleep. 

“Hey,” he says, and it’s a pitiful sound.

Seungkwan immediately stands up and wraps his arms around him, looking concerned. 

“How are you feeling?” he asks softly.

“About the same,” Mingyu answers through a cough. 

“So, like microwaved dog shit?” Soonyoung prompts, frowning at how pale he looks. 

“Maybe a few notches lower than that,” he says, resting his arms on Seungkwan’s shoulders. 

“Yeah, we’re definitely not celebrating your interview tonight,” Seungkwan says over his shoulder to Soonyoung.

“Nope,” Soonyoung and Mingyu answer at the same time.

Seungkwan looks between them for a moment and then stops. “I know why it’s a no from you,” he says to Mingyu, still wrapped around him, before turning to Soonyoung. “But why from you?”

“Because having a celebration about getting a job that I haven’t even interviewed for feels like bad luck,” he sighs. Seungkwan keeps staring at him, so he mutters, “And I have plans.”

He immediately regrets it. Seungkwan and Mingyu are already exchanging a look, so he gets up and tries to escape before Seungkwan starts in about _something good_ again. However, even when he’s sick, Mingyu’s reflexes are quick, and he sticks out a foot to stop Soonyoung in his tracks. Seungkwan is on him a moment later, pulling him in between them.

“We are going to talk about this at some point,” Seungkwan says, his face inches from Soonyoung's.

“Yes, I know,” he moans, trying to wiggle free. “But right now, I’m being blasted with germs and the interview is on Monday, so can it wait a few days?”

Seungkwan considers this and says, “We are also going to celebrate.”

“Yes, fine,” Soonyoung says, resting his forehead on Seungkwan’s shoulder. “Just not tonight,” he clarifies through the cotton of Seungkwan’s t-shirt.

Nothing happens for a second and he’s positive that Mingyu and Seungkwan are having one of their weird couple eye-conversations, so he waits. When they finally release him, he crosses to the sink in the kitchen and starts passive-aggressively washing his hands. 

“Love you,” Seungkwan says quietly from behind him.

Soonyoung rolls his eyes, but it comes with a smile.

-

When Jihoon opens his door later that night, Soonyoung doesn’t even get a word out before he's grabbing him by the arm and pulling him down the hallway that he’d just come through. 

“Why is everyone manhandling me today?” he grumbles as they reach the staircase. 

“Because it’s easy,” Jihoon answers, dropping his arm. 

He starts down the stairs, and Soonyoung yells after him, “Where are we going?”

“Errands,” he says from the landing. He waits, looking up at Soonyoung from under his hood. “Are you coming or not?”

“It’s a lot of stairs,” he says, “and I just came up them.”

“God,” Jihoon sighs, starting down again, but Soonyoung can hear the laugh in his voice.

“Will you carry me back up?” he asks loudly as he follows. “I’m actually pretty light-”

“No,” Jihoon cuts him off with a groan, moving even faster when Soonyoung catches up.

“Don’t run away from me,” he laughs, and the sound of it carries all the way up to ceiling. 

On their way to wherever they’re going, Soonyoung peppers Jihoon with questions about his day, all of which he takes in stride until Soonyoung runs out. He asks a few things too, like how Mingyu’s feeling, how are Seungkwan’s stress levels, has he talked to Chan today. Soonyoung is not particularly happy about how he and Chan have gotten over the past two weeks- Chan has a lot of dirt on Soonyoung that does not need to fall into the wrong hands. But still, it’s not a bad feeling, knowing that Jihoon is interested in his life, his friends. 

When they reach their destination, Jihoon ducking into a grocery store, Soonyoung stops, eyebrows furrowed in a question.

“We’re getting food?” he asks as he steps inside. “We could have just ordered something.”

Jihoon sighs. “Pick out some snacks,” he says, shoving a basket into Soonyoung’s arms.

“Where are you going?” Soonyoung calls after him, but he just waves and says, “I’ll find you in a few minutes.”

Soonyoung does as he’s told, but he takes his time with it, wandering each aisle in search of something that really catches his eye. The song playing over the PA system is an old one, one that his mom used to sing in the car and as he scans the cookie selection, he starts humming under his breath. It’s not until he turns around and finds Jihoon standing at the end of the aisle that he realizes he’s been singing. 

“What?” he asks, frowning at Jihoon’s strange expression. When he doesn’t answer, Soonyoung gets a good look at the contents of his basket. 

“Is that champagne?” he gawks, reaching for one of the bottles topped with gold foil. 

Jihoon twists at the torso and Soonyoung’s hand comes away empty. 

“Maybe,” Jihoon says, eyeing him suspiciously.

It takes a moment for Soonyoung to make the connection, but when he does, he lets his head fall back toward the fluorescent lights hanging above him. “Who told you?”

“No one told me anything,” Jihoon says, brushing past him.

“Was it Minghao?” he asks, trailing close behind. “No,” he says, reconsidering, “it was Jun, wasn’t it?”

“I don’t know,” Jihoon says, stopping short suddenly. “What would they have told me?” 

Soonyoung shrinks down, realizing the trap he’d walked into a moment too late. 

“Okay,” he says, “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”

“Tell me what?” 

Soonyoung sticks his tongue in his cheek and then bites down. “That I got an interview with the entertainment company I applied to.”

He looks up at Jihoon, whose expression stays cold for too long and Soonyoung starts to worry that he might actually have upset him by keeping it a secret. But when he looks again, one of Jihoon’s dimples has appeared above his mouth.

“It was Seungkwan,” he says, turning and walking toward the self-checkout counter.

“Bastard,” Soonyoung hisses. “How did he even get your phone number?” he asks, jogging to catch up.

“Honestly,” Jihoon says as he takes Soonyoung’s basket from him, “I have no idea.”

“Sounds like Seungkwan.”

Jihoon snorts as he starts scanning the various snacks they’d collected, and Soonyoung feels a rush of guilt somewhere in his chest.

“Sorry for not telling you,” he says, handing Jihoon one of the bottles of champagne. “I didn’t want to jinx it.”

“It’s okay,” Jihoon says, looking up from the screen. “But you owe me now, so you’re not allowed to complain about all this.”

Soonyoung nods, picking up the other bottle. “I’m not complaining, but,” he starts, and Jihoon glares. “I just wanted to say that you don’t have to do all this, it’s not a big deal.”

“Shut up,” Jihoon says, snatching the bottle from him. “It is a big deal and you know it.”

Soonyoung doesn’t say anything, allowing himself a small smile instead as Jihoon finishes checking out. There’s a brief scuffle over credit cards until Jihoon growls something about complaining and Soonyoung backs off. They’re halfway out of the store, bags swinging happily on Soonyoung’s arms when he recognizes the people heading toward them.

Seokmin spots them first, dropping Wonwoo’s hand to wave. Jihoon stops as they move closer, looking at them and then at Soonyoung.

“Hey,” Seokmin says with one of his patented smiles, pulling Soonyoung into a hug. “I feel like I haven’t seen you in weeks.”

When they separate, Soonyoung smiles back, and it isn’t as hard as he expects it to be. “I know,” he says, shifting one of the bags in his hand, “I don’t make it out much on Fridays anymore.”

“Yeah, I noticed,” Seokmin laughs, grabbing the arm of Wonwoo’s jacket and tugging him closer a few steps. “You remember Jihoon, right? Jun and Minghao’s friend, we met him at the club on Mingyu’s birthday.”

Jihoon looks a bit startled by his sudden appearance in the conversation, but Wonwoo nods and says, “Of course, the DJ.”

“And you're the writer?” Jihoon guesses, Wonwoo’s face lighting up when he gets it right.

“Yeah,” he smiles. 

There’s a brief lull in the conversation then, but Seokmin doesn’t let it last for long. “What are you guys up to?” he asks, glancing at their bags.

Jihoon looks a little uneasy, like he wants to step in, but Soonyoung beats him to it.

“We’re celebrating,” he says with a smile, holding up his arm so they can see the champagne bottles. “I got an interview with Pledis.”

Seokmin’s eyes go wide before he pulls Soonyoung into another hug. “That’s amazing,” he says. “Seriously, that’s so incredible, Soonyoung.”

“Yeah, it kinda is,” he shrugs. “It’s not a sure thing, but you know. Still a reason to celebrate.”

“Definitely,” Seokmin nods and Wonwoo does too, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose with a smile before he says, “Congratulations.”

Soonyoung does not look away. “Thank you,” he says, the first sincere thing he’s said to Wonwoo in months.

He smiles apologetically after that, shifting the bags in his arms again. “We should probably get going,” he says, glancing at Jihoon, whose eyes are locked on Wonwoo.

“Of course,” Seokmin says, “It was good to see you.”

“You too,” Soonyoung replies as he turns away and nudges Jihoon with his toe. 

He snaps out of it, looking lost for a moment. “Nice to see you again,” he says belatedly, but they’re already gone.

Soonyoung raises his eyebrows at Jihoon as they start walking back toward his apartment, but it doesn’t do anything to change the concerned look on his face. 

“You good?” he asks Soonyoung after a stretch of silence.

“Yes,” he says. “I’m good.”

Jihoon doesn’t seem to believe him, but Soonyoung smiles, realizing that he believes it, which is more than enough.

-

Back at the apartment, Jihoon seems to unwind once he’s well into his third red plastic cup of champagne. 

“Your ears are pink,” he tells Soonyoung, who is also well into his third red plastic cup.

“Yeah,” he agrees, glancing into the mirror hung on Jihoon’s closet door. He makes a face at himself, watching Jihoon crack into a smile over his shoulder. “I wish they were pointer, though,” he says, reaching up to grab one.

“Why?” Jihoon laughs, leaning back into his desk chair.

“I always wanted to be an elf when I was a kid,” Soonyoung says. “I had a big Lord of the Rings phase.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” Soonyoung says, turning around and putting a hand on his hip. “Is that so hard to believe?”

Jihoon stills with his cup to his lips, looking him up and down. Soonyoung’s insides squirm under his eyes, but he doesn’t let it reach his expression. 

“Actually, it makes sense.”

“Ha ha,” Soonyoung says, but then the song changes to something he hasn’t heard in a long time and he gets lost for a moment, spinning around and moving his hips to the beat. “I also,” he starts again between sips, “had a deeply rewarding Twilight phase.”

He waits for Jihoon to laugh, but he doesn’t, so Soonyoung turns around. 

“What?” he says, “You don’t have anything to comment?”

“I like Twilight,” Jihoon shrugs after a moment of consideration, and the perfectly serious look on his face sends Soonyoung over the edge.

“What?” Jihoon asks, as Soonyoung shakes with laughter, depositing himself on the floor.

“What?” he yells this time, kicking out one of his legs in Soonyoung’s direction.

“That’s incredible,” Soonyoung sighs, falling onto his back.

Jihoon lets him laugh until they’re both quiet, which doesn't take long. Soonyoung feels heavy against the carpet and he gives into it, closing his eyes. He moves his hands across the fabric, humming along to the song that comes on next, a slow thing, one that he’s heard too many times. 

“Were you singing?” Jihoon asks from across the room.

“I’m humming.”

“No,” Jihoon says and Soonyoung can hear him shifting in his seat. “Earlier, in the grocery store.”

Soonyoung sits up. “You heard that?”

“Yeah,” Jihoon hums, nodding his head. “It was nice.” Soonyoung laughs, but Jihoon cuts in and says, “It was.”

“How much have you had to drink?” Soonyoung asks, crossing his legs and resting his head in his hand. 

“You’re ridiculous,” Jihoon says. 

“What did I do now?”

“You’re just- I don’t know,” he says, his eyebrows scrunching in frustration. Soonyoung wants to put his thumb between them.

“When I came to watch your class,” he says, leaning forward, “did you think I was going to hate it?”

Soonyoung is taken back by the question and its obvious answer, so he looks at his hands.

“That's what I thought,” Jihoon murmurs. "You’re so hard on yourself. I said your singing was nice, so it was nice.”

“Okay,” he says to his lap, twisting a loose strand of carpet around his finger. 

When he looks up, Jihoon is looking back.

By the time they get to the second bottle, they abandon the cups all together and just pass the bottle back and forth from their respective seats. The song playing over Jihoon’s speakers has something to do with space, how there’s too much or too little, and Soonyoung sighs.

“I miss being able to see the stars,” he sighs, rubbing his hands in the condensation on the glass. “They were bright where I grew up, but out here, you’re lucky if you can see one.”

Jihoon gets a look on his face, pausing for a second before getting out of his chair. 

“What are you doing?” Soonyoung asks as he walks past.

“I can fix that,” he says, opening his closet and crouching down to rummage through a pile of unmarked boxes.

“You can fix me not being able to see the stars with something in your closet?”

Jihoon doesn’t answer immediately, and Soonyoung is about to ask again when he makes a noise. He turns around, holding a black box and says, “Yes, I can.”

Soonyoung watches as Jihoon removes a battered but expensive looking dome and finds an outlet to plug it into. After he pushes it out into the middle of the room, he says to Soonyoung, “Go turn off the lights.”

Soonyoung does, a little nauseous as he gets to his feet, but when the room goes dark, it’s worth it.

Somehow, the night sky blinks onto Jihoon’s ceiling and walls, covering everything. 

“I’ve had it for a while now, so it’s not as perfect as it was at first,” Jihoon says, sitting down on the edge of his bed, “but it does the trick.”

Soonyoung nods, turning in little circles as he tries to take it all in. When his stomach turns with him, he stops and goes back to lying on the floor in the middle of the room instead. 

“What are you doing?” Jihoon laughs quietly, nudging Soonyoung’s side with his foot.

“It’s better this way,” Soonyoung says, scooting over and patting the floor beside him, “trust me.”

For a moment, he doesn’t think Jihoon’s going to do it, but then he’s there, saying, “You’re right. This is better.”

They’re quiet for a long time after that. Soonyoung gets lost somewhere inside himself as he counts the stars, matching the numbers to his breaths. He tries not to think about anything, but it all comes rushing up at him anyway, so he filters through it as best he can. The anxiety about his interview goes in one place, Seungkwan’s laugh goes in the opposite direction. How much he misses his parents fills everything, and then the price of train tickets helps it shrink. Wonwoo’s face appears and disappears, washing away like smoke. A thought that he hasn’t admitted out loud yet lights up like neon. He mouths the words to himself, lips barely moving.

He closes his eyes again and listens to Jihoon breathe, wondering if he’s asleep. 

Maybe the thought wakes him, because he turns his head and asks Soonyoung, “That was your ex, wasn’t it? At the grocery store?”

“Yeah,” Soonyoung says. He’s been waiting for this conversation. “How did you know?”

“Context clues.” 

Things go quiet for another minute before Jihoon asks, “How are you feeling about that?”

“Are you asking if I’m over him?” Soonyoung asks in response, a small laugh in there somewhere as he plays with the hem of his t-shirt.

“Yeah,” Jihoon says, but just barely.

“Then yes,” Soonyoung says, nodding his head up and down slowly. “I think I’m still a little angry, but I’m not- I don’t have feelings for him.”

The room hums around them, the music soft enough that he can barely hear it, like a piano playing in a church across the street.

“Have you gotten your stuff from his place?” Jihoon asks, and Soonyoung gives him a look. 

“What?” he says, “That’s a thing. Like, you’re not really over them until you get your stuff. I’ve definitely heard that before.”

“Yeah, in movies,” Soonyoung scoffs.

“Well,” Jihoon presses, “have you?”

“No,” Soonyoung admits, though he doesn’t think about it the same way Jihoon seems to and he tells him so. Jihoon nods, but doesn’t say much else for a while. 

When he speaks up again, Soonyoung’s eyelids are getting heavy. 

“How did it end?” he asks.

“Because of me,” Soonyoung says, and Jihoon makes a sound at the back of his throat. “That’s what it felt like, at least.” Soonyoung presses his fingers into the carpet. “It wasn’t just with him, I mean. With everyone, it always felt like things ended because of me. Like I was missing something.”

“That’s stupid,” Jihoon murmurs, his speech only slightly slurred from the alcohol. “You’re full of something.”

“What?” Soonyoung smiles, turning over to look at him, “Full of shit?”

“No,” Jihoon groans as he meets Soonyoung’s eyes. “Like,” he starts and then stops. He looks up at the projected constellations on the ceiling.

“So there’s our solar system right?”

Soonyoung hums. He watches as Jihoon makes a square with his fingers surrounding a small collection of stars.

“But if you pull back,” he says, spreading his hands wider, “there’s more. That’s our galaxy. Pull back again, that’s our cluster. Then our supercluster, our local group, on and on until you reach the observable universe. Point is, you can keep going and there’s always more.”

His hands are still in the air, outstretched and reaching for the opposite corners of his bedroom.

“You’re like that, I mean,” he says, finally letting his arms fall. He doesn’t look at Soonyoung. 

Soonyoung lets it stay still for as long as he can take it. He mouths those words to himself again before reaching over and putting the back of his hand on Jihoon’s chest. He doesn’t know what to say besides the obvious, which feels dangerous. He searches until he finds something easier.

“You should tell people about your music,” he whispers, drumming the tips of his fingers on Jihoon’s rib cage. 

“I know,” Jihoon says. Soonyoung presses down with his knuckles until Jihoon starts to laugh.

“Okay,” he says, breathless, grabbing Soonyoung’s hand to make him stop. He doesn’t let go and neither does Soonyoung. “I know.”

-

31 MAY | THURSDAY | 9:00 PM

That Thursday, Soonyoung isn’t the only member of Jihoon’s personal cheering section. By the time he takes the stage, his crowd has pushed their way to the very front, all of them yelling too loud as he slips on his headphones. Soonyoung watches him flush with embarrassment, but his smile is unforgettable, even through the strobes.

Soonyoung laughs, clutching Jun's arm when he gets a good look at him, worried that he’s going to burst into tears any second. 

“I’m fine!” Jun yells into his ear, “I'm totally fine!”

“Just wait,” he says, throwing his head back into the light.

-

Half of the night flies past in what feels like nothing and suddenly, Jihoon is stepping off the stage, all of the eyes in the crowd following him as he goes. 

Soonyoung waits until he’s sure that Jihoon is gone, until he can’t even see his shadow, before following Minghao to the bar. It takes a while for everyone to find each other, but once they’re all back together, Mingyu hunts down a table and waves them over. 

Soonyoung catches pieces of the conversation, all of the praise and awe shouted in one voice over another, but he tries not to take his eyes off of the empty doorway on the far wall. 

At some point, Seokmin gets up and starts dancing again, pulling Wonwoo toward the dance floor with him. Wonwoo’s face breaks into a grin when Seokmin spins him around, and Soonyoung laughs as he watches them disappear into the crowd.

When he looks again, Jihoon is there, waiting.

-

“Hey,” Soonyoung says, taking a few steps forward so that he gets a word in before anyone else.

“Hey,” Jihoon says, coming to a stop, smiling. He’s fucking radiant, standing there in front of Soonyoung, burning through him like a star.

It doesn’t take long for their friends to descend, all of them clamoring around Jihoon, but Soonyoung doesn’t mind. He has plenty of time.

-

When the dust settles, Jihoon is sitting next to him, sipping one of the dozen drinks that their friends are trying to push on him, laughing. Seungkwan says something about seeing into the next dimension and Jihoon waves him off. 

“I’m serious,” Seungkwan says, reaching over to pat Jihoon’s hand. Soonyoung recognizes the gesture and smiles to himself. “It was that good,” he says before turning his eyes to Soonyoung.

He waits until Jihoon isn’t looking, until he’s distracted by another one of Jun’s emotional outpourings, and then raises his eyebrows at Soonyoung, nods his head toward the crowd.

Soonyoung gives him a look, so Seungkwan does it again, much more forcefully this time. And of course, he’s right.

Soonyoung leans into Jihoon. “Hey,” he says, “come dance with me.”

-

The bodies of strangers orbit around the two of them, close enough to touch but not quite. 

They do the same for too long, until Soonyoung can’t anymore. He reaches out and Jihoon presses into him with just a touch to his waist. Soonyoung leans back, puts his arms over Jihoon’s shoulders, wants to be able to look at him. 

Jihoon tips his head back and smiles, but something catches his eye that’s not Soonyoung, and he turns, following his gaze. Wonwoo and Seokmin are a few feet away, mouths blurry against each other. Soonyoung looks back at Jihoon.

“Will you do something for me?” Jihoon asks over the music, lifting onto his toes so that he can hear him better.

He nods, one of his hands finding its way to Jihoon’s hip.

“Go get your stuff,” Jihoon says.

The world turns over, once, twice.

“Now?” Soonyoung asks, glancing at Wonwoo and Seokmin, ready to drag them home at that very moment if he says the word.

“No, no,” he laughs, waving his hands. “Not now.”

“When?” Soonyoung urges, leaning down. Jihoon keeps laughing, but he doesn’t let up. “When? I need a timeline.”

“Fine,” Jihoon groans, rolling his eyes. He thinks for a minute and tells him, “Tomorrow morning.”

“I can do that,” Soonyoung says, but the music swallows it whole. It doesn’t matter. He has plenty of time.

-

That night, Soonyoung dreams in forgotten colors, all of them strung together by Jihoon’s laugh.

-

1 JUNE | FRIDAY | 9:00 AM

Vernon answers the door, hand shoved deep into a bag of cereal. 

“He’s in the shower,” he says before Soonyoung can even ask. “It’ll probably only be a minute. You can just go back to his room.”

“Okay,” Soonyoung nods, coming in and toeing off his shoes. He nudges the door closed with his foot, hands somewhat preoccupied.

Vernon eyes the box and tosses a marshmallow into his mouth.

“Long story,” Soonyoung smiles, shifting the weight of it in his arms. 

“Yeah, I figured,” Vernon says. 

Soonyoung expects him to move out of the way, but he stays put, reaching for another handful of cereal. His expression is cold, and it’s one he hasn’t really seen on Vernon before, especially not directed at him.

“Is everything good?” he asks, kicking the box up with his knee. 

“That’s up to you,” Vernon shrugs. 

Soonyoung opens his mouth and closes it. “Are you trying to intimidate me?”

“I don’t know,” he says, the look on his face unchanging. “Do you need to be intimidated?”

It feels a little ridiculous, the don't-hurt-my-best-friend-or-you're-dead speech coming from someone that he saw try to swallow a candy bar whole a few weekends ago, but the sentiment stands.

He imagines what Jihoon’s face would look like watching this exchange, and he smiles.

“No,” Soonyoung says, shaking his head. “Absolutely not.”

It takes a moment, but Vernon nods and steps out of the way. Soonyoung nods back, trying not to feel awkward as he walks past, wondering if this is what all of their conversations are going to be like from now on. 

Before he makes it very far into the apartment, he gets hit in the back of the head with a shower of cereal.

He turns around, mouth open and Vernon throws another handful before retreating to the kitchen and calling over his shoulder, “Use protection.”

“Seriously?” Soonyoung gawks, shaking marshmallow pieces out his hair. "Asshole."

“Just how God made me,” Vernon nods, taking a long drink from the milk carton.

Soonyoung is about to say something about backwash when he hears the shower turn off down the hall. His mouth snaps shut, and Vernon laughs, shooting him a look. “I think that’s your cue,” he says.

“Shut up,” Soonyoung mutters as he leaves, trying to hide the thread of shake running through his voice. He’d ignored it on the way over, the steady thrum of anxiety in everything, but it’s getting louder with every passing second. 

He stops in front of Jihoon’s door and looks inside, studying the walls and the bedspread and the desk. When he steps in and puts the box down, a portion of the weight slides from his body and disappears. He knows this room. He knows the boy who lives in it.

The office chair squeaks when Soonyoung sits down and he swivels around, trying to find something to keep him busy besides waiting to hear a door close, footsteps, something. 

The piano catches his eye and he scoots over to it, feeling around for the power button on the bottom like he’d seen Jihoon do before. All of the lights flicker on when he finds it, but he can’t read the English-labeled buttons, so he just hits random ones until a metronome starts playing. He tentatively presses down on a few keys, thinking that they should probably work together until the sound comes out bright and all wrong.

“Wow,” Jihoon says, and Soonyoung almost jumps out of his skin, smacking a hand over his heart. “We finally found something you’re not good at.”

“Jesus christ!” he yells, turning around to yell some more, but the first thing he sees is Jihoon’s smile, then the boy connected to it, leaning against the doorway, hair still wet, perfect.

“Don’t sneak up on me,” he says, lowering his voice. “I’m predisposed to heart attacks.”

“I’ll remember that,” Jihoon nods, one of his dimples playing hide-and-seek above his mouth. 

When he doesn’t step any further into the room, Soonyoung raises an eyebrow and asks, “Are you coming in?”

Jihoon tries and fails to stifle an eye-roll, which Soonyoung watches carefully. He looks at Jihoon’s hands, shoved deep into the front pocket of his hoodie and at his heel, bouncing up and down on the carpet. It’s been long enough that Soonyoung knows what this mean.

He scoots himself toward Jihoon in the chair, struggling against the carpet and it has the desired effect, Jihoon shaking his head like he does when he’s endeared.

“Just walk,” he says, waving his arms, but then it’s too late, Soonyoung is already there. 

“Hey,” he smiles, looking up at Jihoon, who has trouble meeting his eyes. Soonyoung reaches out and grabs his hands, says, “Hey.”

Jihoon is smiling now, but he still won’t look down, so Soonyoung stands. 

“Hey,” Jihoon finally sighs, giving up when they’re face to face.

“Did you see the box?” Soonyoung asks, kicking it for emphasis.

“I saw the box,” Jihoon nods, unlacing their hands so he can pull at a string on Soonyoung’s sweater. When he flicks it to the ground, Soonyoung brings his palm up to Jihoon’s neck, tapping at his pulse to get his attention. 

“Yeah?” Jihoon asks, “Something I can help you with?”

“You saw the box,” Soonyoung says seriously, not giving into the game. He’s been waiting. 

Jihoon doesn’t make him wait any longer. It’s easy, leaning into him, one of his hands flat against Soonyoung’s chest. It’s a quiet kind of light that comes on when they kiss, one that Soonyoung doesn’t have a name for. 

He pulls back slow, catches Jihoon’s bottom lip between his, stays there as long as he can.

“So today we learned I’m not good at piano,” he murmurs against Jihoon’s mouth, “but I think you could teach me.”

“Yeah,” Jihoon smiles, “I could.”

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading!! i love you!! big heart lil heart emoji
> 
> come visit me on twt [@lovewomho](https://twitter.com/lovewomho)


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